by Trish Morey
He looked at Kayla and shrugged, as though to say, “They’ve got me this time,” and she smiled at him, her heart full of affection for all he’d meant to her in the past. She wasn’t sure what the future would bring. But things were never dull when Max was around.
Her smile faded as she remembered that there was something more lasting than memories between them, something more precious than life itself. And that was when she decided it was time for her to go.
“Your Majesty, if you don’t need of me here …”
Pellea poked her head back out of the closet. “Go ahead, Kayla,” she said. “I know you’ve got work to do. I won’t keep you.”
“Thank you,” Kayla said, then she turned and gave Max a stern look. “You will be good, won’t you?”
“At what?” he teased with a lopsided smile.
She glared at him. “The guard is outside so don’t think you can get away with anything,” she murmured to him out of Pellea’s hearing.
He gave her a “Who? Me?” look. She shook her head and started for the door. “Have a lovely time at the ball,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be the star.”
And she was out the door before he had a chance to say or do anything else.
She hurried back to the office, hoping to get some work done that she’d neglected while she was off chasing princes. It had been a hectic week. Pellea had sent her to represent the DeAngelis royal family at a financial conference in Paris. She’d hated leaving for a whole week, but the fact that the queen had that much faith in her had been wonderful. She’d worked herself to the bone trying to live up to expectations and she was exhausted.
And while she was gone, the search for the last of the lost princes of Ambria had struck gold. First Mykal Marten, whom she’d met before she left for the continent, had been confirmed as the fourth prince. And then the news had come that the fifth and last prince had been discovered. When she saw the name—Max Arragen—in a newspaper account, she hadn’t thought much of it, but then she saw a picture. It was blurry and taken from a distance, but the jaunty set of the shoulders had made her think of Max—her Max. She’d gasped and begun to wonder.
It wasn’t until she’d returned home to Ambria a day ago that she’d seen a good picture and realized that Prince Max really was the man she’d known in Trialta as Max Arragen two years before. And that sent her into a virtual tailspin.
She’d only known him for about six months, but the time they’d spent together had been crazy and intense. He was her husband’s best friend, and they’d both been working as contract pilots, flying reconnaissance missions against the tyrannical regime of the North African nation of Trialta on the Mediterranean. They’d lived like young people involved in war often do, working hard during the day, partying at night like there was no tomorrow. They were fighting for the rebels and thought they were invincible.
She couldn’t believe he was back in her life again—at least in a peripheral way. He always managed to inject excitement and surprise into everything, like no one else she’d ever known. She remembered times in Trialta where it had seemed she and Eddie were in the lead vehicle in a continuous car chase—and Max was at the wheel.
And then came the day when Eddie didn’t return from a mission. The wreckage of his plane was found, and all the parties stopped. Kayla had clung to Max at the time and they’d mourned together, hardly believing that the Eddie they both loved so much could be gone forever. No one else could have understood how deep their grief was.
But that was then. Things had changed, for both of them. Surely he’d had some life-changing experiences since she last knew him. And she’d had a beautiful, wonderful child.
What would it be like to be friends with Max now? She was a little bit afraid to find out. She wasn’t the wide-eyed innocent she’d been two years before. She had some secrets of her own. And how would she keep them from him, now that he was going to be living right here in the castle?
She buried her worries in work, staying an hour longer than normal. And then, once she’d put away her papers and shut off her computer, she gave in to temptation and made her way down to the ballroom instead of going straight to her room.
She took a back entrance and climbed the stairs to a seldom-used interior balcony that overlooked the entire floor area. The orchestra was playing a waltz and the couples swept across the floor, around and around, the women like flowers in their beautiful dresses, the men resplendent in gold-edged uniforms of white or blue or crimson. Despite everything, it took her breath away and made her heart beat faster. A scene like this would make anyone want to be noble, especially if they’d been raised on fairy tales.
She watched for a few minutes longer, caught up in the magic. How wonderful to be royal and to live as though you were the star of it all. Just being here in the castle made her feel as though she were blessed. But it also made her feel a new and more intense responsibility to her country and her people. She wondered if Max would start to feel a little of that soon.
She could pick out most of the princes. So handsome, every one of them—so tall and strong. They looked like men who were confident in themselves and ready to take on the world. She could hardly believe Max was about to take his place alongside of them.
There was Prince Mykal, sitting on the sidelines, still recovering from a horrendous motorcycle accident from a few months before. Prince David, one of her favorites, was dancing with beautiful Ayme, who had recently become his bride. Prince Joe, still looking like a California surfer with his sun-streaked hair, was laughing with Kelly, his own new bride. And newly crowned King Monte had Pellea in his arms and was leading her around the floor with such obvious passion, you’d think the honeymoon was starting that night. That made her laugh softly to herself.
She searched the crowd. Where was Max? Her gaze lingered a moment on Princess Kim. She was glad to see her looking happy after all that she’d been through on the enemy side of the island with the Granvilli partisans. It was good to have her safe and sound, back in the castle where she belonged. But where was Max?
At first worried, she began to get angry. If he had slipped away again …!
And then she saw him.
Max was standing with a group of men she didn’t recognize. As she watched, the men moved away and a beautiful dark-haired woman was brought up to be presented to him. Kayla felt a tug on her heartstrings, but she tried desperately to suppress it. She couldn’t be jealous. There was no sense behind it. She had to keep it down. Max was not hers and never had been. Never would be, especially now that he was a prince. There was no justification for any jealousy. She couldn’t let it happen.
She watched as they danced. He moved so well, as if he were floating on air. He was talking to his partner and she was blossoming in his arms. He could have been born for this—and of course, he really was!
The dance was over. She could breathe again. And now, she really had to go. But she watched for just one minute more, and suddenly his head was tilted up. He was looking right at her. And as she watched, he lifted a glass of champagne and smiled at her, giving her a toast. Her breath caught in her throat and she gasped. He gave her a nod, and then a lascivious wink. Her face felt hot as she pulled back, away from where anyone could see her. She was laughing, though. That wink was guaranteed to keep her warm that night. Trust Max!
But as she turned and left the balcony, her amusement evaporated. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t be watching Max from afar and reacting every time he noticed her. Nothing good could come of this. Much better that she should stay as far away from him as she could get. If he really wasn’t attached, it would be his duty to find a bride as soon as possible. Watching him fall in love would be tough to take. And if he ever found out …
No, keeping in touch with Max was much too dangerous. She had to find a way to avoid it.
She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and she was starving. Glancing at her watch, she knew it was too late to pick up Teddy before he went t
o sleep. Her heart ached as she thought about that. She missed him. Her baby was only a little over a year old and she missed him when she had late days like this. Sighing, she knew she had to speak to Pellea about it. She really didn’t want to be away from her child this long. At the same time, she was so lucky to have this job …
She stopped in at the all-night café and got a salad to eat once she got home.
Then she headed for her sister Caroline’s room, just two doors down from hers.
“Hi,” she called softly, opening the door with her own key. “How are they?”
“Sleeping like lambs,” Caroline said, rising from the couch where she’d been reading and coming to give her sister a hug.
Just two years apart, they looked enough alike that there was always someone who asked if they were twins. Caroline wore her blond hair short, pixie-style, and had a more sleepy, languid look about her, but otherwise, they were practically replicas and had always been especially close.
They stood together looking down at where the two little boys, one dark-haired like his father, the other as blond as his mother, lay side by side, sound asleep.
Caroline’s husband, Rik, was a rising star in the Ambrian royal guard. Right now he was on a mission on the Granvilli side of the island and would be gone for a few days. Luckily, whether Rik was home or not, Caroline loved having Teddy in to play with her own boy.
“Why don’t you leave him here for the night?” she suggested. “He’s used to sleeping here after the last week when you were in Paris. And it was so hard to put them down tonight, I hate to wake them up and have to start all over again.”
“Are you sure?” Kayla felt guilty, but she was so tired, it sounded like a good thing to do.
“Absolutely. You’re only two doors down. I can get you over here fast if I need you. Just come on over first thing in the morning and it will all be good.”
She stayed for half an hour, sharing her salad with her sister while they talked, watching her baby while he slept.
And then she was back in the corridor, on her way home and looking down toward the public area, wondering how the ball was going. It was interesting to live this way, with everything happening so close at hand. The castle lifestyle was growing on her. She had been new to it a year before when she’d come to work here, but she was used to it now and it seemed a comfortable way of life. She compared it to living on a huge cruise ship.
She opened her own door and went in, yawning and kicking off her shoes as she did. A tap on a switch turned on a soft light in the kitchen, which did enough to light the path to her bedroom. She made her way slowly through the apartment, casting off clothes as she went, first her jacket, then her skirt, then her sweater.
She was thinking about crashing straight onto her bed and closing her eyes and not opening them again until morning. Heavenly peace. No dreams, please. Just wonderful sleep. Her eyes began to droop in anticipation.
But it was not to be. Two steps short of her destination, just as she was reaching back to unhook her bra, a dark hulk rose from her overstuffed chair in the corner.
“You know,” the hulk said ruefully, “I’d love to let you go on with this, but I have a feeling you’d hate me in the morning. Just a hunch.”
She screamed, grabbing her sweater back again and pressing it to her chest. At the same time, Max jumped forward and took her by the shoulders.
“No, don’t scream,” he said urgently. “I get into so much trouble when women scream.”
She glared up at him, quickly pushing him away, startled and exasperated all at once. She could smell alcohol on his breath, but that was hardly surprising. Still, she was wary enough to be careful.
Handsome men, liquor and a moonlit night—the recipe for disaster.
“Then don’t jump out at them from dark corners, maybe,” she suggested sharply.
He shrugged as though anxious to make up for scaring her. “Okay, okay. It’s a deal.”
“Oh, Max.” She glared at him as she tried to keep covered in all the most delicate areas. “Why did you let me get this far before you said anything?”
His eyebrows rose. “Are you kidding me?”
“Oh!” She shook her head, but she was calming down. “Look that way,” she insisted, pointing to the wall. “And don’t turn around until I tell you to.”
He turned obediently and she began to search her drawer for fresh clothes to wear. “What are you doing here?” she demanded at the same time.
“I wanted to see you. We need some time to talk. Old times and all that.”
She pulled on a comfortable top.
“Maybe call first next time,” she suggested grumpily as she dug for something to pull over her legs. “How did you get in here anyway?”
He chuckled. “Princes pretty much rule around this castle. You tell people you’re a prince and they want to do things for you. The housekeeper couldn’t wait to do me a favor.”
“That’s a problem.” She sighed. “Okay, you can turn around.”
He turned and looked at her and he was knocked out. Here he’d just come from a royal ball filled with beautiful women who’d all spent half the day in the beauty shop and were dressed to kill and no one he’d seen there turned him on the way Kayla did wearing a simple sweatshirt and black leggings, with her hair looking like a tornado had just come through.
“I think I love you,” he said, taking in all her rumpled glory and smiling. “I know I’ve missed you like crazy. It’s so good to see you again.”
She gazed into his warm blue eyes and melted. She knew he was kidding, that this was his way of joking about emotions instead of dealing with them. But she also knew he was recognizing the ties between them and ready to embrace them, just like it used to be.
Still, she had to wonder if he remembered that last night as clearly as she did. He had done nothing to indicate it. As far as she was concerned, she hoped he had a touch of amnesia. That night had been a crazy rush of pain and grief and anguish and they hadn’t handled it very well. Best to forget it. If they could.
She gave herself a moment to really look at him. Pellea had found him a striking uniform to wear to the ball, but he’d taken off the jacket and pulled open the shirt, displaying some gorgeous skin and manly chest hair. Now he looked less than formal. She shook her head at the sight, but despite everything, she enjoyed seeing him. She always did.
“How did you get away from Pellea?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t easy. The woman was watching me like a hawk.”
She sighed and sank into a chair, gesturing for him to sit on the couch across from her. “She’ll probably be calling me any minute to organize a search party.”
He moved her discarded jacket and dropped down onto the arm of the couch, then leaned toward her. “You won’t give me up, will you?” he said with a puppy-dog look.
“Are you kidding?” she told him crossly. “Of course I will. I’m not risking my job so that you can play hooky.”
He laughed. “Good point.” Then he frowned. “What is your job exactly?”
“I’m the queen’s personal assistant. I do whatever she needs to get done but doesn’t have time to do herself.”
It was a good job and she was proud of it. As a single mother without anyone to count on but herself, she was lucky to have it. If she ever lost it, for any reason, she would be in real trouble. There weren’t many good jobs for women in Ambria right now and the queen was a wonderful woman to work for. With a two-year-old of her own, Pellea understood the problems Kayla had to face and was ready to give her a lot of leeway.
“Ah,” Max said, “impressive. Quite another level from the job you had in Trialta.”
She smiled, thinking of it. “Selling T-shirts to tourists from a kiosk on the beach. Yes, I didn’t get much chance to show my skills and talents at that one.”
But it hadn’t mattered then. Her days were spent waiting for Eddie to come back from a flight, and her nights were filled with wine, music and friends
. For a few months, life had been carefree and exciting. But you had to pay for everything, one way or another, and she’d been paying the price ever since.
Max was staring at her as though he could see what she was thinking. “And yet, here you are, barely two years later, assistant to the queen.”
She gave him a look. “I do have a university education, you know.”
He appeared surprised. “No, I didn’t know. When did you get that?”
She smiled. “Long before I first met you.”
“No kidding.” He frowned, thinking that over. “That’s more than I’ve got. And they think they want me to be a prince.”
Her smile wavered a bit. It was true. From what she knew of his background, he might have a bit of trouble. He’d never been shy about it. While sipping drinks in the sidewalk cafés of Trialta, he’d regaled them with tales of his childhood living on the streets, always making it sound hilarious rather than tragic. But she’d often thought the raw tattered ghost of deprivation lingered in the shadows of his eyes.
He’d had a rough childhood. Any breaks he ever got he’d worked hard to achieve. That was very different from what most royals experienced. The newspaper accounts had filled in some of the parts of his background she hadn’t known before, but she didn’t know how accurate they were.
“From what I’ve read in the newspapers and magazines, they seem to think that you were spirited off on the night of the rebellion,” she said to him musingly. “When the Granvilli family attacked and burned the castle—when your parents, the king and queen were killed, and all the DeAngelis royal children went into hiding.”
She shuddered just thinking of it. Those poor kids!
“Do you know how you escaped? Do you have any idea who it was who saved you by carrying you off that night?”
His shrug was careless, as if he didn’t know and didn’t really care. “Whoever they were, they didn’t take very good care of me. By the time I was seven or eight, I was fending for myself on the streets. Before that, there were various strangers—at one point I think I was staying with a pickpocket who tried to teach me his tricks. But as far as I know, nobody was around for long at anytime. There’s no one I can claim.”
