Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! / Valentine Bride. Raye Morgan
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“And you can keep things running properly on your own?”
“I’ve got a certain amount of IT talent. I’ve read a few books.”
He looked at her and smiled. “My admiration grows.”
She colored a bit and looked away.
“So you can see what’s going on at all the major interior intersections, and a few of the outside venues as well. How convenient.” His mind was racing with possibilities.
She pushed away from the desk and sighed again. “Monte, I shouldn’t have let you see this.”
“You didn’t let me. I did it all on my own.” He shook his head, still impressed. “Are you going to tell me why?”
She sighed again. “There are times when one might want to do things without being observed. Here in the castle, someone is always watching.” She shrugged. “I like a little anonymity in my life. This way I can get a pretty good idea of who is doing what and I can bide my time.”
“I see.”
She rose and turned toward the door. “And now I really am late.” She looked back. He followed her out reluctantly and she closed the door carefully. It seemed to disappear into the background of paneling and molding strips that surrounded it.
“See you later,” she said, leading him away from the area. “And stay out of that room.”
He frowned as she started off. He didn’t want her to leave, and he also didn’t want to miss out on anything he didn’t have to. On impulse, he called after her, “I want to go with you.”
She whirled and stared at him. “What?”
“I’d like to see your father.”
She came back towards him, shocked and looking for a way to refuse. “But you can’t. He’s bedridden. He’s in no condition…”
“I won’t show myself to him. I won’t hurt him.” He shook his head and frowned. “But, Pellea, he’s one of the few remaining ties to my parents left alive. He’s from their generation. He knew them, worked with them. He was close to them at one time.” He shrugged, looking oddly vulnerable in his emotional reactions. “I just want to see him, hear his voice. I promise I won’t do anything to jeopardize his health—or even his emotional well-being in any way.”
She studied him and wondered what she really knew about him. The way he felt about her father had been clear almost from the first. He was wrong about her father. She’d spent a lot of time agonizing over that, wondering how she could make him understand that her father was just a part of his time and place, that he had only done what he had to do, that he was really a man of great compassion and honesty. Maybe this would be a chance to do just that.
“You won’t confront him about anything?”
“No. I swear.” He half smiled. “I swear on my parents’ memories. Do you trust me?”
She groaned. “God help me, I do.” She searched his eyes. “All right. But you’ll have to be careful. If you’re caught, I’ll claim you forced me to take you with me.”
He smiled at her sideways, knowing she was lying. If he were caught, she would do her best to free him. She talked a good game, but deep down, she had a lot of integrity. And she was at least half in love with him. That gave him a twinge. More the fool was she.
“I only go when no one else is there,” she was telling him. “I know when the nurse goes on her break and how long she takes.”
He nodded. He’d always known she was quick and sure at everything she did. He would have expected as much from her.
“Keep your eyes downcast,” she lectured as they prepared to head into the hallway. “I try to go at a quiet time of day, but there might be someone in the halls. Don’t make eye contact with anyone or you’ll surely blow your cover. You can’t help but look regal, can you? Take smaller steps. Try to slump your shoulders a little. A little more.” She made a face. “Here.” She whacked one shoulder to make it droop, and then the other, a tiny smile on her lips. “That’s better,” she said with satisfaction.
He was suspicious. She hadn’t held back much. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
“Giving you a whack?” She allowed herself a tight smile. “Certainly not. I don’t believe in corporal punishment.”
“Liar.” He was laughing at her. “Are you going to try to convince me that it hurt you more than it hurt me?”
She didn’t bother to respond. Giving him a look, she stepped out into the hallway, wondering if she was crazy to do this. But she was being honest when she said she trusted him to come along and see her father with her. Was she letting her heart rule her head? Probably. But she’d made her decision and she would stick to it.
Still, that didn’t mean she was sanguine about it all. Why had he come back? Why now, just when she had everything set the way it had to be?
And why was her heart beating like a caged bird inside her chest? It didn’t matter that she loved him. She couldn’t ever be with him again. She had a baby to think about. And no time to indulge in emotions. Taking Monte with her was a risk, but she didn’t really have a lot of choice—unless she wanted to turn him in to the guard.
She thought about doing exactly that for a few seconds, a smile playing on her lips. That would take them back full circle, wouldn’t it? But it wasn’t going to happen.
Don’t worry, sweet baby, she said silently to her child. I won’t let anything hurt your father. She said a tiny prayer and added, I hope.
Monte wasn’t often haunted by self-doubt. In fact, his opinions and decisions were usually rock-solid. Once made, no wavering. But watching Pellea with her father gave him a sense that the earth might not be quite as firm under his feet as he’d assumed.
In the first place, he wasn’t really sure why she’d let him come with her. She knew how the need for retribution burned in him and yet she’d let him come here where he would have a full view of the man, his enemy, lying there, helpless. Didn’t she know how dangerous that was?
It would be easy to harm the old man. He was still handsome in an aged, fragile way, like a relic of past power. His face was drawn and lined, his color pale, his thin hair silver. Blue veins stood out in his slender hands. He was so vulnerable, so completely defenseless. Someone who moved on pure gut reaction would have done him in by now. Luckily, that wasn’t Monte’s style. He would never do such a thing, but she didn’t really know that. She’d taken a risk. But for what?
He watched as the object of his long, deep hatred struggled to talk to the daughter he obviously loved more than life itself, and he found his emotions tangling a bit. Could he really feel pity for a man who had helped ruin his family?
No. That couldn’t happen.
Still, an element confused the issue. And to be this close to someone who had lived with