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

His eyes were clouded with some problem he was obviously working through and his handsome face looked a bit tense. That made her all the more grateful.

      She was lucky he was taking her presence with such equanimity. Most people would have kicked her out by now, or at least edged her toward the door. But he was ready to let her stay. Thank God. She wasn’t sure she could think clearly enough right now to get herself a room in a hotel on her own, especially carrying a baby around. It was great of him to invite her in. She could hardly wait to throw herself on the bed and let sleep take over.

      Then she had second thoughts. He hadn’t said anything about getting sleep himself, had he?

      “What are you going to do?” she asked suspiciously.

      He shrugged rather absently, as though his mind were miles away. “I’ve got some business to wrap up.”

      She knew it was an excuse, but she didn’t push it. She was just too tired to challenge him. The thought of sheets and a real pillow were totally seductive for the moment. So she followed him to the spare bedroom and waited while he carried Cici in, setting her little bed right beside the real bed without waking her at all. He seemed to have the magic touch.

      She smiled, watching him tuck Cici in. So precious.

      “I’ll see you later,” he said gruffly, and she nodded, waiting just until he closed the door before slipping out of her skirt and sweater, leaving only her underclothes on, and sliding between the sheets. She dropped into sleep instantly, but for some reason, she began to dream right away, and her dreams were full of tall, dark-haired men who looked very much like David.

      Meanwhile, David was moving fast, preparing to vacate the premises. He’d been planning for this day from the time he could think through the consequences of being found by the vicious Granvilli family who had taken over his country. He knew they wanted all remnants of the Royal House of Ambria wiped out, wherever they might be hiding. They wanted no lingering threats to their ugly reign of terror over the ancient island people.

      And he and his older brother Monte were a threat, whether the Granvilli bunch knew it yet or not. At any rate, they were determined to be one. He was already committed to being in Italy by the end of the week to meet with other Ambrians and begin planning in earnest for a return to power. He might as well leave now. There was nothing keeping him here. He’d already made his office aware of the time off he planned to take. He could begin his journey a little early and make his way to Italy in a more careful trajectory. There was no telling what other obstacles he would find along the way.

      “Nothing really worth having is easy.” Someone had said that once, and right now it made perfect sense to him. The struggle to get his country back was going to be a rough one and he was ready to get started.

      And he had to go on his own, he told himself. There was no way to take Ayme along, no reason to do it. Why should he feel this tug of responsibility toward her? He tried to brush it away. She would be okay here. He hadn’t even known she existed two hours ago. Why should he feel he owed her anything?

      He didn’t. But he did owe the people of Ambria everything. Time to begin paying them back.

      He had preparations that had to be dealt with, paperwork that had to be destroyed so that the wrong people wouldn’t see things they shouldn’t see. It took some time to do all that and he had an ear cocked toward the phone in case the interested party from a half hour before might try again. But the night moved relentlessly forward without any more interruptions. The sky was barely beginning to turn pink as he wrapped up his arrangements.

      Completely focused, he pulled on a dark blue turtleneck cashmere sweater and finished dressing at warp speed, then glanced around his bedroom. He hesitated for half a second. Did he have time to grab some things and shove them into an overnight bag? What the hell—he had to have something with him, and he’d taken all this time already. Why not? It was all right there and it took no time at all.

      He slid into his soft leather jacket as he headed for the door. Despite all the rationalizing he’d been doing, he felt pretty rotten about leaving Ayme behind this way. She was so all alone in the city. She didn’t know anyone but him.

      That gave him a quick, bitter laugh. She didn’t really know him, did she? Which was what was so ridiculous about all this. Still, he hesitated in the open doorway. Maybe he would call the doorman from his car and ask that he look after her. Sure. He could do that. She would be okay.

      Right. He took one more step and then stopped, head hanging forward, and uttered an ugly oath. He knew he couldn’t leave her.

      There was no telling who that had been on the phone There was no telling who was after him—except that he was rock-bottom sure it was an agent for the Granvillis. What if the assassin came into his apartment after he left? Who would protect her? Not the doorman. That was pure fantasy.

      No, he couldn’t leave her—even if she was the one who had brought all this down on him. He was almost certain that she didn’t know anything about it herself. She was an innocent victim. He couldn’t leave her behind.

      Giving out a suppressed growl of rage, he turned and went back, opening the door to the spare bedroom and looking in.

      “Ayme?” he said tersely. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I’ve got to go and I don’t want to leave you here.”

      “Huh?” She stared up at him, startled, her eyes bleary. She’d had less than an hour of sleep—not nearly enough. “What?”

      “Sorry, kiddo,” he bit out. “You’re going with me.” He glanced around the room. “Do you have any other clothes?”

      She blinked, trying to get her fuzzy mind to make sense of the question. “I left my bag in the corner.” She nodded her head in its general direction.

      He stuck out his hand to her. “Come on.”

      She took his hand in hers and stared at it as though it were a foreign object. “Where are we going?”

      He gave her a little tug and she didn’t resist, rising halfway out of bed.

      “Away from here.”

      “Why?”

      “Why?” He looked into her eyes, alert for any hint of guile. “Because it’s too dangerous to stay.”

      “Oh.”

      That seemed to convince her. She tumbled out of bed like a sleepy child, pulled the sheet around herself and began to look for where she’d tossed her clothes. He’d started to turn away in order to leave her to it, but something about the picture she made with the fabric twisted around her torso, leaving one shoulder bare and most of both long, golden legs exposed, had him rooted to the spot. There was a fluid, graceful beauty to her that took his breath away and reminded him of something. What was it? Some picture from history, some long forgotten fable…

      Ambria. The legend of the lake. It was the familiar story of loss and earned redemption. He could remember sitting in his mother’s lap as she turned the pages of the picture book and read the story to him.

      “Look, Darius. Isn’t she beautiful?”

      The lady sat on a large rock overlooking the lake, weeping into her cupped hands, and the flowing garment she wore was very like Ayme’s sheet. Funny. He hadn’t thought of that scene in years and yet it came back to him so clearly as he watched Ayme leaning over to retrieve her clothes. He’d felt the same tug of compassion as a boy as he felt now.

      Well, not the same, exactly. He wasn’t a boy anymore and the pang of sympathy was mixed with something else, something that had to do with how creamy her bare skin looked in the lamplight, especially where the sheet pulled low, exposing the soft curve of her breast just beneath a lacy strapless bra.

      For some odd reason his heart was beating hard again, and this time it had nothing to do with a phone call.

      Ayme looked up and caught the look. She gave him one of her own, but hers was cool and questioning.

      “Where