The Lost Princes: Darius, Cassius and Monte. Raye Morgan

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      “Darius, you must come. I need you by my side.”

      “Of course. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

      Monte gave him the details. “The town will turn Ambrian for a few days, it seems.”

      “Our covers will be blown.”

      “Yes.”

      David smiled. “Thank God.”

      “Yes.”

      They both laughed.

      “Don’t forget. Italy. Be there or be square.”

      “You got it.”

      He rang off, bemused and filled with conflicting emotions. He was looking forward to Italy. It was bound to be an exciting, important lesson about his own past, as well as a chance to lay the foundations for a new future. But as he turned back toward the hotel, it was Ayme and the information he’d heard about her parents that filled his thoughts.

      He went back up to the room and opened the door quietly. Ayme and Cici were both sound asleep. There was only one light on in the room, in the far corner, and he left things that way, pulling off his sweater and unbuttoning his shirt but leaving it and his jeans on as he came to the bed he was going to share with Ayme.

      Looking down, his gaze skimmed over her pretty face, her lovely bare shoulder, the outline of her leg beneath the sheet. She appealed to him, no doubt about it. He waited as the surge of desire swept through him. That he expected. But what surprised him was another feeling that came along with it, a tightening in his chest, a warmth, an unfamiliar urgency. It took a moment to understand what it was, and when it came to him, he closed his eyes and swore softly.

      Everything in him wanted to protect her. Every instinct wanted to make sure no one could hurt her.

      Where had that come from? He didn’t think he’d ever felt that before. He’d spent so much of his life protecting himself, he hadn’t had the capacity to worry about others. In other words, he was a selfish, self-centered jerk. And he could accept that. So where had this new soft-headed urge to nurture come from?

      Maybe it was just because of the baby. Maybe he was blurring the lines between them in a visceral way he couldn’t control. He knew he needed to watch that. It could put him in unnecessary trouble. He didn’t want to go doing anything stupid.

      More likely the facts that he’d just learned about Ayme’s parents’ fate had something to do with it. And maybe it was just that he was so damn tired. Could be. He knew he needed sleep. And there was a bed right in front of him. Too bad it was already occupied.

      She’d been so shocked by the thought of them sleeping together this way, he sort of hated to spring it on her with no warning, no time for her to prepare. But he wasn’t a predator. He was just a sleepy guy right now. And the bed was just too tempting to pass up. With a sigh, he began to prepare for getting some sleep.

      Giving a half turn, Ayme gasped.

      There was a man in her bed!

      Luckily, it was David. This was just what she’d been afraid of. Could she really allow this? Didn’t she have to make a stand or something?

      But maybe not. He still had his jeans on, but his chest was bare. Still, he was fast asleep and completely nonthreatening. She relaxed and went up on one elbow to look at him in a way she hadn’t been able to do before.

      She’d been telling the truth when she’d said she’d never had a serious boyfriend. She’d done some dating in college, but it never seemed to come to much. Most men she’d met had either disappointed or annoyed her in some way. The type of man she attracted never turned out to be the sort of man she thought she wanted in her life.

      So far David hadn’t annoyed her. But he wasn’t trying to hit on her, either. Her mouth quirked as she realized that if his disinterest went on too long, that in itself might get to be annoying.

      “You’re never satisfied,” she accused herself, laughing at the paradox. “Picky, picky, picky.”

      No doubt about it, he was about the most handsome man she’d ever been this close to. She liked the way his lustrous coffee-colored hair fell over his forehead in a sophisticated wave that could only have come from a high-end salon. Then she laughed at herself for even thinking that way. This was no time to dilute her Dallas roots.

      “Hey,” she whispered to herself. “He’s got a good haircut.”

      But the rest of him was purely natural and didn’t depend on any artifice at all. His features were clear and even, his brows smooth, his nose Roman, his chin hard and newly covered with a coat of stubble that only enhanced his manliness. He looked strong and tough, but he also looked like a good guy.

      And then there was the rest of him. He had a build to make any woman’s heart beat a little faster—something between a Greek statue and an Olympic swimmer. His skin was smooth and golden and the tiny hairs that ran down from his beautiful navel gleamed in the lamplight. His jeans were the expensive kind and his shirt was crisp and smooth, despite all it had been through in the day. His hands were beautiful, strong but gentle. She leaned a little closer, taking in his clean, male scent and the heat that rose from his body, feeling a sudden yearning she didn’t really understand. It was tempting to lean down and touch her lips to his skin. She leaned a little closer, fantasizing about doing just that, about touching that belly button with her tongue, about running her hand along those gorgeous muscles.

      Then she looked back up into his face and found his blue eyes wide open and staring right at her.

      “Oh!” she gasped, ready to jump back away from him, but his hand shot out and stopped her.

      “Don’t make any sudden moves,” he whispered. “Cici is stirring.”

      She stayed right where she was, just inches from his face.

      “So,” he said softly, his eyes brimming with laughter. “I guess I caught you checking me out.”

      She gasped again and turned bright red on the spot.

      “I was doing no such thing,” she whispered rather loudly, her eyes huge with outrage.

      “Oh, yes, you were.” He was almost grinning now. “I saw you.”

      “No, I was just…” Her voice faded. She couldn’t think of anything good to pretend she’d been doing.

      “Hey, it’s only human to be interested,” he said softly, still teasing her. “Come on, admit it. You were interested.”

      “I’m not admitting anything,” she whispered back. “You’re not all that wonderful, you know. I mean, you may be tempting, but I can resist you.”

      Somehow that didn’t come out quite the way she’d meant it and she was blushing again. His iron grip on her wrist meant she was trapped staying close. So close, in fact, that she could feel his breath on her cheek. It felt lovely and exciting and her mouth was dry. The laughter in his eyes was gone. Instead something new smoldered in his gaze, something that scared her just a bit. She couldn’t stay here against him like this. She pulled back harder and this time he let her go.

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