Читать книгу Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! / Valentine Bride: Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! / Valentine Bride - Christine Rimmer, Raye Morgan - Страница 11

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.

His mouth went dry with desire and he reached for her. Deftly, she sidestepped his move and held him at bay.

“Don’t touch,” she warned. “I’m a staged work of art right now and I’m off to the photographer for pictures.”

A piece of art was exactly what she was, looking just as she appeared before him. She could have walked right out of a huge portrait by John Singer Sargent, burnished lighting and rich velvet trimmings and all.

He sighed, truly pained. She looked good enough to ravish. But then she always did, didn’t she?

“Forget the ball,” he coaxed, though he knew it was all for naught. “Stay here with me. We’ll lock the gate and recreate old times together.”

“Right,” she said, dismissing that out of hand, not even bothering to roll her eyes. She had other things on her mind right now. “The pictures will take at least an hour, I’m sure. Leonardo will meet me there and we’ll go directly to the ball.”

He frowned, feeling grumpy and overlooked for the moment. “Unless he has an unfortunate accident before he gets there,” he suggested.

She looked at him sharply. “None of that, Monte. Promise me.”

He stretched again and pouted. “When do you plan to make the big announcement?” he asked instead of making promises he might not be able to keep.

She frowned. “What does that matter?” she asked.

He grinned. “You are so suspicious of my every mood and plan.”

Her eyes flashed. “With good reason, it seems.”

He shrugged. “So I won’t see you again until later?”

“No. Unless you decide to go away. As you should.” She hesitated. She needed to make a few thing clear to him. He had to follow rules or she was going to have to get the guard to come help her keep him in line.

Right. That was a great idea. She made a face at herself. She was truly caught in a trap. She needed to keep him in line, but in order to do that, she would be signing his death warrant. There was no way that was going to happen.

At the same time, he showed no appreciation for the bind she was in. If he didn’t feel it necessary to respect the rules she made, she couldn’t have him here. He would have to understand that.

Taking a deep breath, she gave him the facts as she needed them to be.

“Once the announcement is made, our engagement will be official and there will be no more of anything like this,” she warned him, a sweep of her hand indicating their entire relationship. “You understand that, don’t you?”

His eyes were hooded as he looked up at her. “I understand what you’re saying,”

“Monte, please don’t do anything. You can’t. I can’t let you. Please have some respect.”

His slow, insolent smile was his answer. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

She stared at him, then finally did roll her eyes. “Of course not. Everything you do would be for my own good, wouldn’t it?”

There was no escaping the tone of sarcasm in her voice. She sighed with exasperation and then the expression in her eyes changed. She hesitated. “Will you be gone?” she asked.

He met her gaze and held it. “Is that really what you hope?”

She started to say, “Of course,” but then she stopped, bit her lip and sighed. “How can I analyze what I’m hoping right now?” she said instead, her voice trembling. “How can I even think clearly when you’re looking at me like that?”

One last glare and she whirled, leaving the room as elegantly as any queen might do.

He rose and followed, going to the doorway so that he could watch her leave her chambers, a uniformed guard on either side. She could have been royalty from another century. She could have been Anne Boleyn on her way to the tower. He thought she was pretty special. He wanted her to be his, but just how that would work was not really clear.

Right now he had a purpose in mind—exploring the other side of the castle where his family’s living quarters had been. That was the section that had burned and he knew it had been recently renovated. He only hoped enough would be left of what had been so that he could find something he remembered.

It would seem the perfect time to do it. With the ball beginning, no one would be manning their usual places. Everyone would be gravitating toward the ballroom for a look at the festivities. A quick trip to Pellea’s surveillance room was in order, and then he would take his chances in the halls.

The long, tedious picture-taking session was wrapping up and Pellea waited with Kimmee for Leonardo to come out. The photographers were taking a few last individual portraits of him.

“Shall I go check on the preparations for your entrance to the ballroom?” Kimmee asked, and Pellea nodded her assent.

It had been her experience that double-checking never hurt and taking things for granted usually led to disaster. Besides, she needed a moment to be alone and settle her feelings.

Turning slowly, she appraised herself in the long, full-length mirror. Was that the face of a happy woman? Was that the demeanor of a bride?

Not quite. But it was the face of a rather regal-looking woman, if she did say so herself. But why was she even thinking such a thing? She would never be queen, no matter what. Monte might be king someday, but he would never pick her to be his wife. He couldn’t pick someone from a traitor’s family to help him rule Ambria, now could he?

The closest she would get to that was to marry Leonardo. Did that really matter to her? She searched her soul, looking for even the tiniest hint of ambition and couldn’t find it. That sort of thing was important to her father, but not to her. If her father weren’t involved, she would leave with Monte and never look back. But that was impossible under the circumstances.

Still, it was nice to dream about. What if she and Monte were free? They might get on a yacht and sail to the South Seas and live on an island. Not an island like Ambria with its factions always in contention and undermining each other. A pretty island with coconut trees and waterfalls, a place that was quiet and warm and peaceful with turquoise waters and silver-blue fish and white-sand beaches.

But there was no time to live in dreams. She had to live in the here and now. And that meant she had to deal with Leonardo.