Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! Page 9

  Why did that thought keep echoing in his mind? He turned away, reminding himself that the question was out of order. He wasn’t going to think about anything beyond the dancing tonight. And in order to get things started, he decided to take the little redhead up on her offer.

  She accepted his invitation like a shot and very soon they were on the dance floor. It was a Viennese waltz, but they managed to liven it up considerably. She chatted away but he hardly heard a word she said. His attention was all on Pellea.

  As he watched, Leonardo asked her to dance, and she refused him, shaking her head. He looked a bit disgruntled as he walked away, but his friends crowded around him and in a moment, they all went straight for the hard liquor bar, where he quickly downed a stiff one.

  Monte smiled. Fate seemed to be playing right into his hands. The music ended and Monte returned the redhead to her companions. He gave her a smile, but not many words to cherish after he was gone. Turning, he headed straight toward Pellea.

  As he approached, she looked up and he saw her eyes widen with recognition behind her mask. She knew who he was right away, and that disappointed him. He’d hoped to get a bit of play out of the costume and mask before he had to defend himself for showing up here.

  But then he realized the truth, and it warmed his heart. They would know each other in the dark, wouldn’t they?

  Not to say that she was pleased to see him.

  “You!” she hissed at him, eyes blazing. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

  “Asking the most stunning woman in the room to dance with me.” He gave her a deep bow. “May I have the honor?”

  “No!” She glared at him and lifted her fan to her face. She was obviously finding it hard to show her anger to him and hide it from the rest of the people in the room at the same time. “Didn’t Kimmee tell you that you’d been seen?” she whispered.

  “Kimmee delivered your message and I acknowledge it. But I won’t be cowed by it.” He gave her a flourish and a flamboyant smile that his mask couldn’t hide. “I have a life to live you know.”

  “And this stupid ball is that important to your life?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice down and astounded that he could be so careless.

  Didn’t he care? Or did he see himself as some kind of superhero, so over-confident in his own abilities that he scoffed at danger? In any case, it was brainless and dangerous and it made her crazy.

  “Oh, yes, this ball is very important,” he answered her question. His smile was slow and sensual. “It may be my last chance to dance with you. Believe me, Pellea, there is nothing more important than that.”

  She was speechless, then angry. How did he do it, again and again? Somehow he always touched her emotions, even when she knew very well that was exactly what he was aiming at. She felt like a fool, but she had to admit, a part of her that she wasn’t very proud of loved it.

  Monte knew he’d weakened her defenses with that one and he smiled. It might sound glib and superficial, but he meant every word of it.

  She was beautiful, from head to toe, and as he gazed at the way the tiara worked perfectly with her elaborate ensemble, he thought about his memories of his own mother wearing it, and a mist seemed to cloud his eyes for a moment. In many ways, Pellea fitted into the continuity of culture here in Ambria the way no other woman he’d ever met could do. It was something to keep in mind, wasn’t it?

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leonardo coming back into the room and looking their way, frowning fiercely. Monte smiled and glanced at Pellea. She’d seen him, too.

  “We’d better get out on the dance floor or we’ll be answering questions from Leonardo in no time,” he noted. “He has that mad inquisitioner look to him tonight.”

  Quickly, she nodded and raised her arms. He took her into his embrace and they began to sway to the music.

  “This is all so wrong,” she murmured, leaning against his shoulder. “You know this is only going to anger him.”

  He glanced over at Leonardo, who was scowling, his friends gathered around him. Angering Leonardo was the least of his worries right now. He was gambling that the man wouldn’t see him as the intruder he’d been studying on the castle monitoring system.

  If he’d arrived in more normal attire, that might have been a problem. But because he’d appeared in such an elaborate costume, claimed to be royal and seemed to fit so well with the others who were here, he hoped Leonardo wouldn’t connect him with the intruder until it was too late.

  At first glance, he would have to say that he’d been right. Everything was influenced by context.

  “I see that your handsome and valorous swain is celebrating his fool head off tonight,” he noted as Leonardo threw back another shot of Scotch.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “He’s already had too much. It’s becoming a habit of his lately. I’m going to have to work on that.”

  He gazed down at her and barely contained the sneer he felt like using at her words. “Are you?”

  “Yes.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze defiantly. “After we’re married.”

  She said the word loud and clear, emphasizing it to make sure he got her drift. And now he did sneer. He got it all right. He just didn’t want to accept it.

  He whirled her in a fancy turn, then dipped her in a way that took her breath away. But she was half laughing at the same time.

  “Oh, that was lovely,” she told him, clinging to him in a way that sent his pulse soaring.

  “Your lover boy didn’t like it,” he told her blithely.

  “Maybe not,” she admitted, looking back at where Leonardo was standing a bit apart from his friends and watching her. “But you have to admit, until you arrived, all in all, he seems to be happy tonight.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” He pulled her up against his chest and held her there for a beat too long, enjoying the soft, rounded feel of her body against his. “And you, my darling,” he added softly. “Are you happy?”

  Her dark eyed gaze flickered up at him, then away again. “You know the answer to that. But I’m prepared to do my duty.”

  That was an answer that infuriated him and he was silent for a moment, trying to control himself. But he couldn’t stay angry with her in his arms. He looked down at her and his heart swelled. When was he going to admit it? This trip had been completely unnecessary. He’d already gathered all the reconnaissance data he needed on his last visit to Ambria. He’d only come for one thing. Trying to turn it into a Helen-of-Troy kidnapping of the enemy’s most beautiful woman was just fanciful rationalizing. He’d come to find Pellea because he needed to see her. That was all there was to it. But now that he knew about this insane wedding to a Granvilli monster, he wanted to get her out of here with more urgency. She had to go. She couldn’t marry Leonardo. What a crime against nature that would be!

  And yet, there was the problem of her father. No matter what he might think of the man, if he ripped her away from him by force, without first convincing her to go, she would never forgive him. Knowing how important family was, and how traumatic it could be when it was torn apart, he might never forgive himself.

  He had to find a way to make her come with him. Somehow.

  He dipped her again, pulling her in close and bending over her in a rather provocative way. “I promise you, Pellea,” he said, his voice rough and husky. “I swear it on my parents’ graves. You will be happy.”

  Her heart was beating hard. She stared at him, not sure what he was up to. He was making promises he couldn’t possibly keep. She didn’t believe a word of it.

  “You can’t decide on my happiness,” she told him bluntly. “It’s not up to you.”

  “Of course not,” he said, his bitterness showing. “I suppose it’s up to your father, isn’t it?”

  She drew her breath in and let resentment flow through her for a moment. Then she pushed it back. It did no good to let emotions take over at a time like this.

  “I know you hate my father,” she said so
ftly, “and you may have good reason to, from your point of view.”

  “You mean from a reasonable perspective?”

  She ignored his taunt and went on.

  “But I don’t hate him. I love him very much. My mother died when I was very young and he and I have been our only family ever since. He’s been everything to me. I love him dearly.”

  He pulled back, still holding her loosely in his arms. “You’d choose him over me?” he asked, his voice rough as sandpaper.

  Her eyes widened. His words startled her. In fact, he took her breath away with the very concept. What was he asking of her? Whatever he was thinking, he had no right to put it to her that way.

  And so she nodded. “Of course I would choose him. He and I have a real relationship. With you, I have…”

  Her voice trailed off. Even now she was reluctant to analyze what exactly it was that they had together. “With you I had something that was never meant to last,” she said finally.

  He stared at her, wondering why her words stung so deeply. Wondering why there was an urge down in him that was clawing its way to the surface, an urge to do what he’d only bantered about, an urge to throw her over his shoulder as his own personal trophy, and fight his way out of the castle.

  Kidnap her. That was the answer. He would carry her off and hide her away somewhere only he could find her. The need swelled inside him, almost choking him with its intensity. He was flying high on fantasy.

  But he came back down to earth with a thump. What the hell was wrong with him? That whole scenario was just sick. He had no more right to force her into anything than he had to force anyone. If he really wanted her that badly, he would have to find a way to convince her to want him just as much. And so far, that wasn’t working.

  She preferred to stay with her father.

  But that wasn’t fair, to put it that way. Her father was her only living relative and he was very ill. Of course she was protective of him and wanted to stay with him. Her tenderness and compassion were part of what he loved about her.

  “So I guess I come in third,” he mentioned with deceptive calm. “Behind your father and Leonardo.” He glanced back at her fiancé waiting for this long dance to end. “Maybe I ought to have a talk with your lover boy.”

  She drew her breath in sharply. “Stay away from him, Monte. The more he drinks the more dangerous he’ll be.”

  She was passionate and worried, but also confused and torn and not at all sure how to handle this. Here she was in the same room with the man she loved and even in his arms, and just a stone’s throw away from the man she was pledged to marry.

  Let’s face it, he was the man she had to marry, no way around it. She was pregnant. She needed a husband. Without one, she would be persona non grata in this community. And if those in charge ever figured out who the baby’s father was, her child would be an outcast as well.

  She really didn’t have much choice in the matter. In a country like this, living in this rarefied sliver of the society as she did, and caring for her father as she did, there was no option to play the free spirit and defy the culture’s norms. She needed protection. It was all very well to love Monte, but he would never marry her. She had to provide for her child—and herself. No one else was prepared to do it for her.

  No one but Leonardo, and for that—though Monte might never understand it—she would be forever grateful to the man.

  Leonardo knew she was pregnant, though he didn’t know who the father was. He didn’t really care. It wasn’t love he was looking for in their relationship. It was the factions she represented, the power she could help him assemble, and the prestige of her name. Though her father had been mistrusted for a time because he had worked with the old DeAngelis regime, years had passed now, and his reputation was clear. Now, the magic of the old days and the old regime was what mattered. People were said to hold him in such high esteem, his reputation rivaled that of the Granvillis. And that was one reason Leonardo wanted her on his side.

  It was well understood between the two of them. She was getting something she needed from him and he was getting something he needed from her. If Monte had just stayed away, everything would be going along as planned.

  But Monte had appeared out of nowhere once again and upset the apple cart. She loved him. She couldn’t deny it. And he was the father of her child, although he didn’t know it. And here he was, inserting himself into the equation in a way that was sure to bring misery to them all. Did she have the strength to stop him? So far, it didn’t seem possible.

  The music finally came to an end. She knew Leonardo was waiting for her to return to her spot and she was resigned to it. Reluctantly, she began to slip out of Monte’s arms.

  But he didn’t want to let her go.

  “Do you find it oppressively hot in here?” he murmured close to her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I guess…”

  He didn’t wait for a full answer. In the confusion of couples coming and going every which way to get on and off the dance floor, he maneuvered her right out the open French doors onto the dimly lit and almost empty terrace. As the small orchestra struck up a new tune, they continued their dance.

  “Monte,” she remonstrated with him. “You can’t do this. You’re not the only one who wants to dance with me, you know.”

  “I know that very well,” he said. “Why do you think I felt I had to resort to these guerilla tactics to have my way with you?”

  She laughed low in her throat and he pulled her into the shadows and kissed her. His kiss was music by Mozart, sculpture by Michelangelo, the dancing of Fred Astaire. He was the best.

  Of course, she wasn’t exactly an expert on such things. Her experience wasn’t extensive. But she’d had make-out sessions with incredibly attractive men in her time, and she knew this was top-tier kissing.

  He started slowly, just barely nipping at her lips, and, as she felt herself enjoying the sensation and reaching for more of it, he found his way into the honey-sweet heat of her mouth, using his tongue to explore the terrain and sample the most tender and sensitive places.

  She knew she was being hypnotized again and for the moment, she didn’t care. His slow, provocative touch was narcotic, and she fell for the magic gladly. If he had picked her up and carried her off at that moment, she wouldn’t have protested at all.

  But he’d kept the clearer head and he pulled back.

  “Oh, Monte, no,” she sighed, the sweetness of his lips still branding hers. She felt so wonderful in his arms, like a rose petal floating downstream. The music, the cool night air, his strong arms around her—what could be better?

  “Please,” she whispered, reaching for him again.

  “Not now, my darling,” he whispered back, nuzzling behind her ear. “There are people nearby. And there are things that must be done.”

  “Like what?” she murmured rather sulkily, but she was beginning to come back to her senses as well and she sighed, realizing that he was perfectly right to deflect her. “Oh, bother,” she muttered, annoyed with herself as her head cleared. “There you go, flying me to the moon again.”

  He laughed softly, dropping one last kiss on her lips. “There will be plenty of time for that later,” he promised.

  “No there won’t,” she said sensibly. “I’ll be married. And if you think you’re going to be hanging around once that has happened, you’d better think again.”

  She couldn’t help but wince as she let herself imagine just how bereft her world was going to be.

  But she managed to keep a fiercely independent demeanor. “There are certain lines I swear I will never cross.”

  He gazed at her, his blue eyes clouded and unreadable. “What time is the announcement planned for?” he asked her.

  She looked up at him in surprise. “Just before the midnight buffet,” she answered, then frowned, alarmed. “Wait. Monte! What are you planning to do?”

  “Who, me? Why would you think I was planning
anything at all?”

  “Because I know you.” She planted her hands on his shoulders and shook him. “Don’t do it! Whatever you’re planning, don’t!”

  He pretended to be wounded by her suspicion, though his eyes were sparkling with laughter. “I can’t believe you have so little faith in me,” he said.

  She started to respond, but then her gaze caught sight of something that sent her pulse racing. “Leonardo,” she whispered to Monte. “He’s found us.”

  “Oh, good,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to him.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PELLEA DREW IN A SHARP BREATH, filled with dread as she watched Leonardo approach.

  “I’ll hold him off if you want to make a run for it,” she told Monte urgently, one hand gripping his shoulder. “But go quickly!”

  “Why would I run?” he said, turning to meet the man, still holding her other hand. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

  “Oh, Monte,” she whimpered softly, wishing she could cast a spell and take them anywhere else.

  Leonardo’s face was filled with a cold fury that his silver mask couldn’t hide.

  “Unhand my fiancée, sir,” he ordered, his lip curling and one hand on the hilt of the sword at his side. “And identify yourself, if you please.”

  Monte’s smile was all pure, easy confidence. “You don’t allow hand holding with old friends?” he asked, holding Pellea’s hand up where Leonardo could see his fingers wrapped around hers. “Pellea and I have a special connection, but it’s nothing that should concern you.”

  “A special connection?” Leonardo repeated, seeming momentarily uncertain. “In what way?”

  “Family connections,” Monte explained vaguely. “We go way back.” But he dropped her hand and clicked his heels before giving Leonardo a stiff little bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the Count of Revanche. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

  Leonardo looked a bit puzzled, but much of his fury had evaporated and a new look of interest appeared on his long face. “Revanche, is it?”