Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! / Valentine Bride. Raye Morgan
for lack of anything else to say. And he was crazy if he thought the Granvillis would tumble into ruin because of a kidnapping or two.
“I’d like to see them tightening their defenses all around,” he went on, “and begin scurrying about, looking for the chinks in their armor. There are people here who watch what they do and report to us. This will give us a better idea of where the weak spots are.”
She nodded. She understood the theory behind all this. But it didn’t make her any happier with it.
“So when you get right down to it, it doesn’t have to be me,” she noted. “You could take back something else of importance. The tiara, for instance.”
Something moved behind his eyes, but he only smiled. “I’d rather take you.”
“Well, you’re not going to. So why not just get out of my hair and go back where you came from?”
He shook his head slowly, his blue eyes dark with shadows. “Sorry, Pellea. I’ve got things I must do here.”
She sighed. She knew exactly what he would be doing while she was gone. He would be in her secret room, checking out what was going on all over the castle. Making his plans. Ruining her life. A wave of despair flooded through her. What had she done? Why hadn’t she been more careful?
“Arrgghh!” she said, making a small wail of agony.
But right now she couldn’t think about that. She had to go meet Leonardo or he would show up here.
“You stay out of my closet room,” she told him with a warning look, knowing he wouldn’t listen to a word she said. “Okay?” She glared at him, not bothering to wait for an answer. “I’ll be back quicker than you think.”
He laughed, watching her go, enjoying the way her hips swayed in time with her gorgeous hair. And then she was gone and he headed straight for the closet.
To the casual eye, there was nothing of note to suggest a door to another room. The wall seemed solid enough. He tried to remember what she’d done to close it, but he hadn’t been paying attention at the time. There had to be something—a special knock or a latch or a pressure point. He banged and pushed and tried to slide things, but nothing gave way.
“If this needs a magic password, I’m out of luck,” he muttered to himself as he made his various attempts.
He kicked a little side panel, more in frustration than hope, and the door began to creak open. “It’s always the ones you don’t suspect,” he said, laughing.
The small room inside was unprepossessing, having space only for a computer and a small table. And there on the screen was access to views of practically every public area, all over the castle. A secret room with centralized power no one else knew about. Ingenious.
Still, someone had built it. Someone had wired it. Someone had to know electronics were constantly running in here. The use of electricity alone would tip off the suspicious. So someone in the workings of the place was on her side.
But what was “her side” exactly? That was something he still had to find out.
The sound of Pellea’s entry gong made him jerk. He lifted his head and listened. A woman’s voice seemed to be calling out, and then, a moment later, singing. She’d obviously come into the courtyard.
Moving silently, he made his way out of the secret room, closing the door firmly. He moved carefully into the dressing area, planning to use the high wardrobe as a shield as he had done earlier, in order to see who it was without being seen. As he came out of the closet and made his way to slip behind the tall piece of furniture, a pretty, pleasantly rounded young woman stepped into the room, catching sight of him just before he found his hiding place.
She gasped. Their gazes met. Her mouth opened. He reached out to stop her, but he was too late.
She screamed at the top of her lungs.
CHAPTER FOUR
MONTE MOVED LIKE LIGHTNING but it felt like slow motion to him. In no time his hand was over the intruder’s mouth and he was pulling her roughly into the room and kicking the French door closed with such a snap, he was afraid for a moment that the glass would crack.
Pulling her tightly against his chest, he snarled in her ear, “Shut the hell up and do it now.”
She pulled her breath into her lungs in hysterical gasps, and he yanked her more tightly.
“Now!” he demanded.
She closed her eyes and tried very hard. He could feel the effort she put into it, and he began to relax. They waited, counting off the seconds, to see if anyone had heard the scream and was coming to the rescue. Nothing seemed to stir. At last, he decided the time for alarm was over and he began to release her slowly, ready to reassert control if she tried to scream again.
“Okay,” he whispered close to her ear. “I’m going to let go now. If you make a sound, I’ll have to knock you flat.”
She nodded, accepting his terms. But she didn’t seem to have any intention of a repeat. As he freed her, she turned, her gaze sweeping over him in wonder.
“Wait,” she said, eyes like saucers. “I’ve seen you before. You were here a couple of months ago.”
By now, he’d recognized her as well. She was Pellea’s favorite maid. He hadn’t interacted with her when he’d been here before, but he’d seen her when she’d dropped by to deal with some things Pellea needed done. Pellea had trusted her to keep his presence a secret then. He only hoped that trust was warranted—and could hold for now.
But signs were good. He liked the sparkle in her eyes. He gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m back.”
“So I see.” She cocked her head to the side, looking him over, then narrowing her gaze. “And is my mistress happy that you’re here?”
He shrugged. “Hard to tell. But she didn’t throw anything at me.”
Her smile was open-hearted. “That’s a good sign.”
He drew in a deep breath, feeling better about the situation. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Pellea calls me Kimmee.”
“Then I shall do the same.” He didn’t offer his own name and wondered if she knew who he was. He doubted it. Pellea wouldn’t be that reckless, would she?
“I’ve been here for a couple of hours now,” he told her. “Pellea has seen me. We’ve been chatting, going over old times.”
Kimmee grinned. “Delightful.”
He smiled back, but added a warning look. “I’m sure you don’t talk about your mistress’s assignations to others.”
“Of course not,” she said brightly. “I only wish she had a few.”
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, giving him a sly look. “You’re the only one I know of.”
He laughed. She had said the one thing that would warm his heart and she probably knew it, but it made him happy anyway.
“You’re not trying to tell me your mistress has no suitors, are you?” he teased skeptically.
“Oh, no, of course not. But she generally scorns them all.”
He looked at her levelly. “Even Leonardo?” he asked.
She hesitated, obviously reluctant to give her candid opinion on that score. He let her off the hook with a shrug.
“Never mind. I know she’s promised to him at this point.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I just don’t accept it.”
She nodded. “Good,” she whispered softly, then shook her head as though wishing she hadn’t spoken. Turning away, she reached for the ball gown