Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! / Valentine Bride: Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! / Valentine Bride. Raye Morgan

      He shrugged. “So I won’t see you again until later?”

      “No. Unless you decide to go away. As you should.” She hesitated. She needed to make a few thing clear to him. He had to follow rules or she was going to have to get the guard to come help her keep him in line.

      Right. That was a great idea. She made a face at herself. She was truly caught in a trap. She needed to keep him in line, but in order to do that, she would be signing his death warrant. There was no way that was going to happen.

      At the same time, he showed no appreciation for the bind she was in. If he didn’t feel it necessary to respect the rules she made, she couldn’t have him here. He would have to understand that.

      Taking a deep breath, she gave him the facts as she needed them to be.

      “Once the announcement is made, our engagement will be official and there will be no more of anything like this,” she warned him, a sweep of her hand indicating their entire relationship. “You understand that, don’t you?”

      His eyes were hooded as he looked up at her. “I understand what you’re saying,”

      “Monte, please don’t do anything. You can’t. I can’t let you. Please have some respect.”

      His slow, insolent smile was his answer. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

      She stared at him, then finally did roll her eyes. “Of course not. Everything you do would be for my own good, wouldn’t it?”

      There was no escaping the tone of sarcasm in her voice. She sighed with exasperation and then the expression in her eyes changed. She hesitated. “Will you be gone?” she asked.

      He met her gaze and held it. “Is that really what you hope?”

      She started to say, “Of course,” but then she stopped, bit her lip and sighed. “How can I analyze what I’m hoping right now?” she said instead, her voice trembling. “How can I even think clearly when you’re looking at me like that?”

      One last glare and she whirled, leaving the room as elegantly as any queen might do.

      He rose and followed, going to the doorway so that he could watch her leave her chambers, a uniformed guard on either side. She could have been royalty from another century. She could have been Anne Boleyn on her way to the tower. He thought she was pretty special. He wanted her to be his, but just how that would work was not really clear.

      Right now he had a purpose in mind—exploring the other side of the castle where his family’s living quarters had been. That was the section that had burned and he knew it had been recently renovated. He only hoped enough would be left of what had been so that he could find something he remembered.

      It would seem the perfect time to do it. With the ball beginning, no one would be manning their usual places. Everyone would be gravitating toward the ballroom for a look at the festivities. A quick trip to Pellea’s surveillance room was in order, and then he would take his chances in the halls.

      The long, tedious picture-taking session was wrapping up and Pellea waited with Kimmee for Leonardo to come out. The photographers were taking a few last individual portraits of him.

      “Shall I go check on the preparations for your entrance to the ballroom?” Kimmee asked, and Pellea nodded her assent.

      It had been her experience that double-checking never hurt and taking things for granted usually led to disaster. Besides, she needed a moment to be alone and settle her feelings.

      Turning slowly, she appraised herself in the long, full-length mirror. Was that the face of a happy woman? Was that the demeanor of a bride?

      Not quite. But it was the face of a rather regal-looking woman, if she did say so herself. But why was she even thinking such a thing? She would never be queen, no matter what. Monte might be king someday, but he would never pick her to be his wife. He couldn’t pick someone from a traitor’s family to help him rule Ambria, now could he?

      The closest she would get to that was to marry Leonardo. Did that really matter to her? She searched her soul, looking for even the tiniest hint of ambition and couldn’t find it. That sort of thing was important to her father, but not to her. If her father weren’t involved, she would leave with Monte and never look back. But that was impossible under the circumstances.

      Still, it was nice to dream about. What if she and Monte were free? They might get on a yacht and sail to the South Seas and live on an island. Not an island like Ambria with its factions always in contention and undermining each other. A pretty island with coconut trees and waterfalls, a place that was quiet and warm and peaceful with turquoise waters and silver-blue fish and white-sand beaches.

      But there was no time to live in dreams. She had to live in the here and now. And that meant she had to deal with Leonardo.