The Prince's Secret Bride. Raye Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ looked down. Funny, she couldn’t remember who the father was right now—but despite the fact that there had been a moment there, when she’d still been groggy from the mugging and this amnesia or whatever it might be was still new to her, that she’d been startled to find she was with child, she was now well aware that she was carrying a baby close to her heart. She would never lose sight of that for a moment.

      “I’m not married,” she said firmly.

      He cocked his head to the side. “Can you remember…?”

      “No.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. She knew instinctively that she had never voluntarily submitted to the authority of a husband. And she was beginning to feel very similarly about the authority of a prince. “But I know I’m not married. I can feel it.”

      He frowned. “Perhaps your husband was killed in the war.”

      She shook her head, chin high. “No.”

      His eyes darkened. “You seem very sure.”

      “I am. Look.” She held up both hands. The simple rings she wore left no room for the traditional Carnethian doubles all married women wore in this country. “I would remember. I just can’t believe I would forget a thing like that. Or if there were anyone in my life that I was in love with.”

      He nodded slowly. “Maybe the answer will be in your luggage. I’ll send out men to search for your suitcase first thing in the morning.”

      Her suitcase! That sense of urgency came over her again. She looked toward the door. “I really should go,” she began.

      “You’re not going anywhere,” he cut in, sounding like a man whose patience was still holding, but not for much longer. “The doctor said you needed rest.”

      “Yes. But that doesn’t mean I have to get it here. Look, I can take care of myself.”

      “I have no doubt of that. But what about your baby?”

      “What about my baby?” she said defensively. “It really has nothing to do with you.”

      For just a moment, she thought she saw him wince, as though her feisty words had hurt him somehow. Despite everything, she regretted it. And that was a real problem. Her impulse was to do anything she could to make him happy. And that made her want to scream.

      “Your Highness,” she said, purposefully using his rank as a way to distance herself from him. “I may not remember my name at the moment. And I may not be too clear on where I came from.”

      She paused for a moment as a picture swam into her mind, a hazy, misty picture that wouldn’t quite come into focus. She blinked, thinking the clouds would clear in a second or two and she would see it perfectly.

      “Are you remembering something?” he asked, stepping closer.

      She drew in a quick breath as the picture evaporated before her eyes. Looking at him, she twisted her mouth slightly. “Not anymore,” she said coolly.

      He nodded. “Let me know if you do,” he said, searching her face as though he thought the answers might appear there.

      She sighed. Here was the problem. He saw her as a victim, someone who needed to be taken care of. She’d been through a lot today and taken some hard knocks, but she knew one thing for sure—she was no victim. She could take care of herself. She was going to have to pull herself together enough to show him that inner toughness before it was too late.

      “Get some sleep,” he told her, starting to turn away. “We’ll discuss your situation tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      “Not if I see you first,” she muttered to herself as she listened to the sharp sound of his boots on the tiled floor of the hallway.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      MARISA stared at what she could see of the flowered canopy above her. Not much moonlight slipped in around the heavy drapes. She’d slept for an hour or so, but something was gnawing at her and she was completely awake now. If she was going to try to find a way out of this place, now was the time. She had to go. She didn’t feel right being here in the first place. This memory thing was driving her crazy. She was so sure she would remember everything if only she could find her missing bag. There was a compulsion driving her. She had to hurry back to the river and find her bag before anyone else did. And the most chilling thought of all. If she never found it, would she ever remember who she was?

      Sitting up, she leaned against the headboard and tried to make a plan. She was in the palace. There were guards. There were probably alarms on the windows and doors. So how was she going to get out of here?

      Well…how about a bold walk right out the front door? Why would a guard even want to stop her? She was a guest in this house and she wanted to leave. What could be simpler?

      Slipping out of bed, she went to the wardrobe, bypassing the pink sweater for a light training suit in more earthy tones. The pants were stretchy and fitted just fine around her belly. The top was a little snug around her bust. She was ready to go.

      In moments she was making her way carefully down the wide staircase and into the dimly lit marble foyer. Catching sight of the front-door guards through the glass, she stopped and chewed on her lip. Now that she was down here, coming face to face with a couple of men likely to have overly aggressive authoritarian complexes didn’t seem like such a good idea. Maybe she ought to try a side door or window first, something in one of the rooms that opened off the foyer. Turning she dismissed first one doorway, then another. A semi-dark room appeared to her left. It seemed to be a library of some sort, with floor-to-ceiling windows. Light from the moon cast a silver aspect across the floor that was almost inviting. She slipped inside, heading for the windows. Surely she would be able to open at least one of them, and if she could get through into the garden without triggering the alarm…

      Prince Nico sat in semi-darkness, sunk in the depths of a huge leather chair in the palace library, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. The night was stretching out long and lonely ahead of him. He wished there was a switch that could turn his mind off. It was running like a rat in a wheel. At this rate, he was never going to be able to sleep.

      The cause was plain enough. Marisa. Marisa with her amnesia and her adorable bewilderment and her strangely vulnerable eyes and her determined bravery. And most of all, with the mystery child she carried. For some reason she had appeared out of the mist and walked into his life, conjuring up all his old ghosts and setting them free to torture him once again. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to sleep for a long time.

      And why was that? What had she done to him? There was no real reason for it. Marisa looked nothing like Andrea. Her personality was very different as well. So why had she captured his imagination like no other woman had done for a long, long time?

      Throwing back his head, he groaned softly. He knew exactly what it was—he just had to face it.

      First, she was pregnant and at just about the same stage Andrea had been when she’d been killed. That just naturally reached out and twisted his heart in ways not much else could. He wanted to protect her, to keep the world and all its ugliness away from her, to make sure nothing happened before she delivered her baby. His own baby had died with Andrea. A double tragedy. A double outrage. The pain had been unbearable. If he had the power, he would make sure that never happened to anyone again.

      Okay, СКАЧАТЬ