He rose and reached for her.
She tried to turn away but he wouldn’t let her. His arms came around her, holding her close against his chest, and he stroked her hair.
“Pellea, darling…”
She lifted her face, her lips trembling. He looked down and melted. No woman had ever been softer in his arms. Instantly, his mouth was on hers, touching, testing, probing, lighting her pulse on fire. She kissed him in return for as long as she dared, then pulled back, though she was still in the circle of his embrace. She tried to frown.
“You taste like chicken,” she said, blinking up at him.
He smiled, and a warm sense of his affection for her was plain to see. “You taste like heaven,” he countered.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, please, Monte. Let me go.”
He did so reluctantly, and she drew back slowly, looking toward him with large, sad eyes and thinking, If only…
He watched her, feeling strangely helpless, though he wasn’t really sure why. With a sigh, she turned and went back to pacing.
“We have to get you out of here,” she fretted while he sat down again and leaned back in his chair. “If I can get you out of the castle, do you have a way to get back to the continent?”
He waved away the very concept. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said confidently. “And when I do go, I’ll take care of myself. I’ve got resources. No need to worry about me.”
She stopped, shaking her head as she looked at him. How could she not worry about him? That was pretty much all she was thinking about right now. She needed him to leave before he found out about the baby. And even more important, she wanted him to go because she wanted him to stay alive. But there was no point in bringing that up. He would only laugh at the danger. Still, she had to try to get him to see reason.
“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
