Читать книгу The Prince's Secret Bride - Raye Morgan - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

MARISA.

It wasn’t her name but it felt like a near fit. Close enough—for now. Her real name was there, right on the tip of her tongue, but every time she thought she had it, it slipped away again. But it would come. She had no doubt about that. She’d hit her head pretty hard and it had knocked her silly for a moment. Give her a little time and a bit of rest and it would all come back. If only she could find her suitcase….

She glanced at the man walking beside her. He was near thirty, large and hard and there was something just a little bit dangerous about him. There was something appealing, too, despite his icy demeanor. But she needed to be careful. She’d been wrong about men before. Hadn’t she? She couldn’t think exactly how, but she knew it was true. She wasn’t thinking too clearly right now but she did know one thing: men were nothing but trouble. She’d best get away from this one as soon as possible.

“Thanks for the late-night snack,” she said, keeping her tone light. “I’m sure you’ve got places to go and people to meet, so I’ll just say goodbye here.”

She stuck out her hand. He took it but not for the handshake she’d expected.

“Where are you going?” he said, looking down at her, his hand warm on hers.

She tugged, but he wasn’t letting go. Looking up, she winced—partly at how tall he was, but mostly for the look of resolve in his silver-blue eyes. The man wasn’t going to go gently into the dark and foggy night, was he?

She hesitated. What she really wanted to do was get back to looking for her suitcase. She needed that bag with an urgency she wasn’t really clear on—but she needed it badly. She wanted to comb both sides of the river until it turned up. But something told her he wasn’t going to go for that.

“I know where I’m going,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got…uh…someplace to stay.”

He cocked one dark eyebrow, and it was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen a man do. She gaped at him, astonished at her own reaction. He was masculine magic—a gangster right out of a thirties film, a movie star dining at the Copa in the forties, a military commander from the fifties, a rock star from the sixties, Italian royalty from any decade at all. He had the presence common to all those icons, a sort of magnificent sense of command that took her breath away.

And he didn’t believe a word she’d said, making her shiver with the sort of expectant chill she only got from a really good thriller.

“Fine,” he was saying as she was pulling herself back down to earth. “I’ll go with you to make sure you get to your destination without any more bridge diversions.”

She felt that under ordinary circumstances, she would have talked back and insisted on going her own way, but she was still getting over the shock his insolent eyebrow had given her, so she nodded and began to make her way along the riverfront sidewalk, her companion beside her, and not an idea in her head as to where she would go.

She had to make up her mind soon. They couldn’t just wander around the city. She bit her lip and tried to think of some way to get into a doorway that would pass muster as her final objective.

Meanwhile, they walked.

It was late and the streets were deserted, but there was a man in the block ahead, leaning against the wall of a building, playing his guitar. As they got closer, she could see that he was standing near the entrance to a sort of nightclub. Music and laughter floated out, but the man was playing to his own muse, standing under a light. He wore dark glasses and there was a cup on the ground near his feet. Maybe he was blind.

Maybe. But she shivered. Something about him…

Maybe it was just the night. As her mother used to say, nothing good happens out there after midnight.

Her mother? She tried to grab hold of that concept, tried to see a face, but it slipped away before she could focus. A feeling of loss filled her, but she tamped it down. Never mind, she would think of it soon enough.

Turning to her companion as they reached the crosswalk, she put her hand on his arm. “Let’s go this way,” she said, nodding down a direction that would avoid the guitar player. “I think this is quicker.”

He came along without comment and in a moment or two, she was breathing evenly again. Funny. She didn’t know why, but the man playing his guitar on the previous block had reminded her of something…something she didn’t want to remember.

Which shouldn’t be a surprise, she supposed wryly. After all, she wasn’t remembering much. Was this going to be a long-term problem? Possibly. But right now it was mostly annoying. And her mind was full of so many things, she didn’t have time to worry about it.

The first order of business was to get rid of this man so she could go back and find her suitcase. Something told her that was the key to getting herself back to normal. As they came to another corner, she stopped and smiled at him quickly.

“There it is,” she said, gesturing down the block. “I can handle the rest of this on my own,” she added breezily. “Thanks again.”

She turned to hurry off, but his hand stopped that, his long fingers curling around her upper arm.

“Marisa,” he said, a smile teasing the corners of his wide mouth as he looked down into her wide eyes, “this is Embassy Row.”

She turned and looked. Sure enough, the street was lined with stately mansions, and even in the dark, she could see the placards identifying the countries.

“So?” she said, trying to remain nonchalant. “I…I’m staying with the Hungarians for now.” She looked up to see if he was buying it.

He laughed shortly. “Liar,” he said calmly. “The Hungarian embassy has been closed down for years and they haven’t sent a new delegation yet.” He shrugged. “Want to try again?”

She glared at him. He was becoming insufferable.

“Look, I don’t want to argue about this. I appreciate your concern, but you have no hold over me.” Very deliberately, she peeled away his fingers, making a graphic statement to back up her words. “And I’d like to be on my own.”

“You can’t be.”

She wrinkled her nose, frowning up at him. “What are you talking about?”

That wonderful eyebrow rose again. “You’re carrying a baby with you, no matter what you do,” he said flatly. “And that means you need to take a little extra care, don’t you think?”

Looking down, she bit her lip. He was right. She could see the slight bulge of her tummy. She was pregnant! It startled her every time she remembered. How had this happened?

Well, she supposed it was in the usual way. Still, you’d think she would remember something like that. At least, she should remember the man involved.

She wished her mind would clear. She was so confused. She knew it would be crazy to go with this man she didn’t even know. Of course, in some ways it was even crazier to go roaming the streets when she didn’t know where to go or what to ask for. What was she going to do, sleep under a bridge or in a doorway like a homeless person?

But that seemed to be what she was right now. Until she figured out who she was and where she was going, she was homeless.

“I’ll be honest with you, Marisa,” he went on. “You’re a grown woman. If you want to wander the streets of this city at all hours, ordinarily you could be my guest. But right now, things are different. You’ve got to think about that baby you’re carrying.”

She blinked at him, not sure where he was going with this.

He considered her levelly. “I think you’d better come home with me.”

That shocked her. She gasped softly, wondering if he really meant it—and how he eant it. What kind of a home was he talking about? What sort of situation?

She looked up with a wry smile. “What will your wife think?” she tried, fishing for information.

A cold shadow passed through his gaze. “I’m not married.”

She shivered, then tried to make light of the circumstances with a quip. “That’s what they all say. Right after they claim to read Playboy for the articles.”

His mouth twisted. Despite himself, he almost grinned. “Okay,” he admitted, “I’ll plead guilty to being male.”

She wondered if that meant he was acknowledging a certain attraction. She thought maybe it did, and that made her want to smile, too. Better to make a smart-aleck crack instead, she decided hurriedly.

“Wise move,” she retorted with a nod. “Next you might as well throw yourself on the mercy of the court. That’ll get you a lighter sentence.”

“If you’re the court, I’d think twice,” he shot back. “But either way, here’s the truth. I’m not married.”

He wasn’t married. Was she? No, she didn’t think so. Despite the fact that she was pregnant, she couldn’t picture herself married. It just didn’t feel like it.

She studied him with her head to the side, considering. “Do you have any children?” She only asked because he seemed so concerned about the baby she was carrying.

“No. But I care a lot about children. And I think it’s only fair to give a baby the best first nine months you possibly can.”

She nodded. Of course she agreed. Who wouldn’t? But what did that mean, exactly? If she couldn’t even remember why she was pregnant….

“Come on,” he said, starting off across the street. “You’re dead on your feet. We’ve got to have a doctor look at you before you pass out.”

“Doctor?” She found herself going along with him again. What had happened to her determined effort to peel off? It seemed to have melted into the mist. “Where are you going to find a doctor at this time of night?”

“I’ve got one where I live.”

That made her do a double take. “Really?”

“Yes.” He glanced at her sideways, a half grin just for her. “I’ve also got a sister who will take care of you. So you don’t have to worry about my intentions.”

She wanted to protest, to say she hadn’t been a bit worried, but the words stuck in her throat.

“Once we get there, I probably won’t even see you again. Carla will handle everything.”

“Will she?” He was walking quickly now and she was hurrying just to keep up.

“Yes. She’s capable of handling just about anything. The entire country, even.”

“Well, if she can handle you, I’m sold.”

They stopped at the crosswalk on a major road. Two cars sped past. Looking back, she thought she saw someone duck between two buildings. That gave her a start, then she relaxed. She was imagining things. This night was taking a toll on her sanity, wasn’t it? She felt an overwhelming need to bring things to rights as much as she could.

Nico took her arm. “We’re almost there,” he told her.

Instead of starting off across the street, she hung back, putting her own hand on his.

“Okay, listen,” she said seriously. “Before we get there, I’ve got a confession to make.”

His eyes darkened as he looked down into hers. “Really.”

“Yes.” Taking a deep breath, she closed her own eyes for a moment, then opened them and blurted out, “I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing.”

He almost smiled. “That’s been obvious from the first moment I saw you.”

She pressed her hand on his and gazed earnestly up into his eyes. “No, I’m serious. I really don’t know who I am.”

He blinked and the smile faded. “That’s why you made up that name, Marisa Fleur?”

She gasped. “How did you know?”

He shrugged. “I saw the sign in the café and figured it out pretty quickly.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. “I wish I was a better liar,” she muttered.

“What was the point of lying?” he said sensibly. “You got hit on the head and you’re a little confused. That’s why you need to see a doctor.”

She looked at him in surprise, then realized what he saw when he looked at her. He saw a woman under suspicion of wanting to commit suicide. Maybe he thought she’d wanted to jump because she was pregnant and had no husband. And why wouldn’t he think that? She had no wedding ring on her finger. That made her bite her lip. She probably wasn’t married, but she really didn’t know. And why was her impulse to lie about it all? Was she trying to hide something?

But all that was crazy. She wasn’t suicidal. She was confused, but not ready to end it all. Was she?

No, of course not. Why couldn’t she keep things straight? She’d climbed up on the bridge to try to see where the man had tossed her suitcase. She had hoped to see where it had landed, or where the river might have taken it, so that she could get it back and find her things and clear everything up. That was all. Nothing earthshaking. She hoped.

“Come on,” he said. “I live right across the street.”

She looked at where he was pointing and gasped.

“Wait a minute. Isn’t this Altamere? The royal palace?”

“Yes. Come along.” He started across the street and she came along willingly, gaping at the huge Gothic building they were headed for.

“Oh my,” she said softly.

He glanced down at her. “Have you been here before?”

“What? No. I don’t think so. But…” She looked at him questioningly as he used a remote to open the huge iron gates. “Do you work here or something?”

“No, Marisa,” he said, closing the gates behind them and nodding to a security guard. “I live here.”

“Wait.” Grabbing his arm, she stopped and stared up at him, her eyes huge with wonder. “Ohmigod. You’re one of the princes, aren’t you?”

He smiled, his blue eyes shining with amusement. “Guilty as charged.”

That did it. The world started to swirl and if Nico hadn’t caught her, she would have hit the ground for the second time that night.