“You will have to marry some time,” Abby said. “And have children. As you say, that’s part of your job as a royal. And…”

Mychale made a sound low in his throat, but she went on. “I want you to know that you had a very nice touch with the baby yesterday. I think you’ll be a great dad.”

He stared at her. He wanted to kiss her.

The feeling came over him like a warm tropical breeze. Her mouth looked hot and delicious, with its rosy lips and the way her upper teeth caught hold of her lower lip when she was thinking. For just a moment he imagined his mouth taking hers, hard, as he pulled her lush body up tight against his.

His body reacted with a strong, sensual aching he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Dear Reader

ABBY AND THE PLAYBOY PRINCE is about finding love in unexpected places, but it’s also about something else, though it may not seem like it on the surface—adoption.

The adoption of a child is a heroic act. It’s easy to love the children we give birth to. It’s natural. But to take in a little stranger and make that child a part of a family— people who are willing to do that are taking a step outside the norm, taking a chance, giving something of themselves, and they ought to be celebrated. They usually get ample rewards for their heroism—giving love means getting it back in spades. And they are also saving the world in their own small way—one adopted child at a time.

Abby has taken her sister’s baby to her heart with no hesitation. With Prince Mychale it is going to take a little longer, and begins as a package deal for getting Abby in his life. Will he learn to love baby Brianna as though she were his own baby?

Well—read the book and see!

Raye Morgan

ABBY AND THE PLAYBOY PRINCE

BY

RAYE MORGAN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To E.M. for your limitless support.

You brighten the lives of all around you!

CHAPTER ONE

PRINCE MYCHALE of the royal house of Montenevada came fully awake, staring into the darkness. He’d been dreaming again. His body was tight as a fist. Even in sleep, he couldn’t relax.

Groaning, he rolled out of bed and headed to the attached bathroom as thunder rumbled nearby. He reached automatically for the light switch, then swore softly when it didn’t work and he remembered the electricity probably hadn’t been on in this vacation chalet for months. As though in answer to his wishes, a flash of lightning lit the room and he saw himself in the mirror for two seconds.

He looked like hell. But what did he expect? He hadn’t slept for days. He’d walked right off the yacht in Cannes where some film star whose name he couldn’t remember had thrown him a party, jumped into his Lamborghini, peeled out of the marina parking lot and kept on going. He’d driven into the dawn, and then through the next day, crossing borders, ignoring speed limits, until he was home.

Home, the center of his support—the focus of his discontent. His home was in the tiny country of Carnethia, where he was third in line for the throne. Instead of heading for the palace, he’d turned his car toward this remote mountain retreat, which was empty now, but had been his family’s refuge during the recent war. He needed time to clear his mind and decide what he was going to do. Time alone.

He turned on the water and was grateful to get a gush out of the faucet. At least that was still on. He would have to ignite the pilot on the water heater as soon as it was light. Then he could wash away Stephanie’s smell. Her perfume lingered like a bad dream. Stripping off his shirt, he dropped it to the floor, then reached to cup his hands under the water and wash his face.

“Ouch.”

He drew back quickly. The water was hot.

“What the hell?”

That wasn’t right. No one would have closed up the house and left the pilot on. Strange.

But he was too tired to deal with that now. He adjusted the water, washed his face and slouched back to throw himself on the bed. Despite the thunderstorm approaching, he was instantly asleep.

Abby Donair crept silently to the door of the prince’s bedroom and listened intently. She couldn’t hear a thing. Was he still in there? She had to know. But more than that, she had to have the ring of keys he’d picked up in the butler’s entry and taken into the bedroom with him. Without those keys, she couldn’t get to the supplies, and there was something in the locked pantry that she needed badly.

What bad luck to have the prince show up like this. She’d known this château since she was a child and knew from experience how to get inside, even though the place had been empty since the restoration of the monarchy earlier that year. So when she was looking for somewhere to hide, the royal chalet had seemed a natural. She’d thought it would give her a sanctuary and a respite, a place to catch her breath and prepare for what she had to do next. And now this.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think of any other way she could get into the pantry. She didn’t want to open the bedroom door. She knew chances were good she wouldn’t get away with what she was planning. But short of taking an ax to the pantry door, there really wasn’t a viable alternative.

Thunder rolled, reminding her there was no escape. Not tonight. Probably not in the morning, either. Oh, why did he have to show up on this very night? After all her careful plotting, all the preparations she’d made. No one from the royal family had been here in months. She’d been so sure it would make the perfect safe haven for her. And then, out of the blue, Prince Mychale had shown up. Why now?

But moaning did no good. She had to act. Tucking back her long, straight blond hair, she held her breath and turned the knob on the solid oak door, peeking in.

There he was. She could make out his form lying crosswise on the wide bed. Lightning lit the room for a moment and she saw him better. Her heart began to pound. He looked half- naked. And maybe more. The way he was twisted in the sheets, she couldn’t really tell.

But that didn’t matter. Hopefully he wouldn’t wake up. If he did, all bets were off and she was in big trouble. In his eyes, she would just be some tramp who’d broken into his house. The man had been trained as a warrior, even though from what she’d heard, the war had ended before he’d had a chance to do much fighting. Who knew what he would do to her?

Another flash of lightning revealed the object of her quest. There on the nightstand she could see the master ring of château keys, right next to his wallet. Taking in a deep breath and gathering her light nightdress around her, she started toward them.

A floorboard creaked as her bare foot touched it. She winced and bit her lip, but she kept on moving. If she just kept going and grabbed the keys, she could be out of here in less than…

He moved, groaning softly. She went very still, holding her breath. Morning was coming and despite the storm, the room was growing lighter. Now that she was near, she could see him pretty well. She’d seen him often enough in the past and she’d always thought he was the best looking of the three royal brothers. But looking at him now, she thought he was more beautiful than ever, his skin sleek, his body hard and shaped to tempt caresses. She’d never been this close to him before. Were her fingers trembling? Oh Lord! For just a second, she was afraid she was losing her nerve.

But no. Failure was not an option. Gritting her teeth, she leaned over him, stretching for the keys. Just an inch more, just a second more…

Her fingertips had barely touched the metal when it all went wrong. He moved. She flinched. And suddenly he’d grabbed her and she was flat on her back, pinned to the mattress.

“Oh!” she cried, the breath knocked out of her for a moment.

“Looking for something?” he asked coldly, his face inches from hers.

She gasped. When she’d considered the dangers involved in what she was doing, she had never pictured the outcome quite this way. He was holding her down by her wrists and his long, hard body was on top of hers. She’d never been under a man’s body before. How could it be so scary and so thrilling at the same time?

“Let me go!” she cried, struggling for only a moment. The more she tried to move beneath him, the worse things got.

“Can’t do that,” he said calmly. He was almost smiling now, as though the first shock of finding her leaning over his bed had passed and he was more amused than alarmed. “If I let you go, I’ll have to wake up from this dream, and I rather like it so far.”

She glared up at him. It was humiliating to realize he thought so little of her chances of doing anything to hurt him that he could take this so casually. And even joke about it! That made her furious. All her fears faded as she took in the indignity of it all.

“What is the matter with you?” she demanded. “Or do you always welcome strange women into your bed like this?”

“I don’t know.” His face came nearer and the next thing she knew he’d moved in closer and was nuzzling against the side of her neck, breathing in her scent as though he enjoyed it. “You don’t actually seem all that strange to me,” he murmured huskily.

She drew in a sharp breath and alarm shivered through her. What was he doing? She’d heard stories about this prince, lurid tales of sexual escapades and romantic adventures whispered by women who seemed to know what they were talking about. Maybe he was used to making love to any woman who happened to tumble into his bed. Maybe he thought this sort of thing was normal.

Well, despite the fact that his face against her skin was deliciously seductive, she wasn’t used to it and she didn’t think it was normal. In fact, she wouldn’t put up with it at all.

“Get away from me!” she cried, trying to twist to the side.

He drew back, looking down at her, but still holding her prisoner with his body.

“You know, I was just lying here, sleeping peacefully,” he noted, “and you were the one who invaded my space.”

He was right and she had to admit it. She was still glaring at him, but her heart wasn’t pounding in her throat any longer. Maybe she could think things over a bit more rationally now. Maybe it was time to try another angle.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to sound sincere and only partially succeeding. “I…I didn’t mean to. I was just… Well, I wasn’t trying to wake you. I thought I could just get in and out without bothering you.”

He was studying her face as though this whole thing was puzzling him. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but notice how appealing he looked with his dark hair falling over his forehead. There was nothing between them but her light cotton nightgown and a thin, silky sheet and she was beginning to feel more of him than was safe.

“I…I’ll just go now,” she added hopefully.

His brilliant eyes were heavy-lidded as he gazed down at her. “You promise?”

She blinked up at him. “Promise what?”

“That you’ll go? Maybe go burglarize some other house and let me sleep?”

“Uh…”

He meant it. She realized his voice sounded groggy. He really was tired and he really did just want her to leave him alone. At least, that was the way his words came across to her. That was a relief. The trouble was, she couldn’t do what he was asking. Not really.

Reading her mind by the look on her face, he groaned, closing his eyes for a second. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

“I…well, it’s raining.” She was only pointing out the obvious.

“I see.” He looked exhausted. “So you’re not planning to go anywhere when you come right down to it.”

She couldn’t lie to the man—not about this anyway. “Well, no, not until the storm passes. You can’t expect me to…”

He was laughing. Softly laughing, but laughing nonetheless. She frowned up at him, offended.

“What’s so funny?”

“You.” He rolled off her and lay back against the pillows. “You haven’t been at this burglarizing business long, have you? Maybe you ought to rethink this as a career path. You don’t seem to have much of a knack for it.”

Pulling herself up to a sitting position and pulling her nightdress decorously around her knees, she glared down at him. “I wasn’t trying to burglarize you.”

He frowned as though all this was just too much to deal with right now. His gaze flickered over her, lingering on where her breasts were easily visible beneath the flimsy fabric.

“Well, if this was an attempted seduction, you need a few pointers in that realm as well.” He yawned. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass for now. I can barely keep my eyes open and…” Suddenly he frowned, staring at her in the morning gloom. “Wait a minute. Do I know you?”

“I…” She thought fast. It was probably safer to let him know they did have a connection of sorts. He was going to find out eventually anyway. “My name is Abby Donair. You’ve probably seen me before. Maybe here in lake country in the old days. Or more recently, at the palace. I’ve been living with my uncle, Dr. Zaire.”

His brow cleared with recognition. “Ah yes, the good doctor. The man who knows all our deepest secrets.”

“I don’t know about that.” She looked at him sharply, wondering what he meant and pretty sure it wasn’t good. Quickly she tried to make things clear. “I mean, he’s never told me anything about you.”

“Good.” He squinted at her. “Yes, I remember you now. You were just at my sister’s birthday luncheon last month, weren’t you? I think I remember noticing you. You played a piece on the piano.”

She nodded reluctantly, remembering with embarrassment that she hadn’t exactly stunned the world with her musical talent that day. “Yes, that was me bumbling my way through ‘Moonlight Sonata’. I was horrible.”

He grinned. “I guess I wasn’t listening very well. I remember thinking you were cute as a button.”

She gaped at him in astonishment, surprised that he would even have noticed her at all.

But he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He sighed heavily. “God, I’m just so tired. I’m treading water here. I’ve got to sleep. Can we continue this later?”

“Oh. You mean…?”

“I mean, I should be ushering you off the premises and generally acting like the property owner I’m supposed to be, but I can’t seem to summon the energy. So I’m going to trust you not to slit my throat or rob me blind. Okay?”

“Okay.” She gave him an exasperated look. “I don’t really foresee getting the urge to do either, if you want to know the truth.”

“Great. I’ll just sleep on top of my wallet so as to remove all temptation.” He reached out to take the wallet off the nightstand and put it under his pillow. Then he yawned again. “Okay. Then I’ll see you in a few hours. Good night.”

He closed his eyes, sank down into the pillows and seemed to drift off with no further ado. She stared at him. He really was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen this close. The rounded muscles of his shoulders and upper arms made her bite her lip, and as she followed the hard planes of his chest down to where his flat stomach muscles tightened around his navel, then disappeared beneath the sheet, for a second or two, she forgot how to breathe. Greek statues had nothing on this man.

Very carefully, she regained her composure and then slipped off the bed and padded to the door. She looked back for a moment, then stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

“Well, that wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” she murmured to herself hopefully. With a mischievous smile, she pulled the ring of keys out of the deep pocket of her nightdress. She’d done what she’d come to do anyway and now she had access once again to the pantry where she’d stored the baby formula.

“Just another couple of minutes, Bree-baby,” she murmured softly, though she knew the little infant couldn’t hear her at this distance. “I’ll have your bottle for you. Just hold on.” With a sigh of relief, she hurried toward the kitchen.

The rain turned to light drizzle a little before noon. Abby was pacing nervously through the casual breakfast area, wondering just how much longer the prince would sleep. She’d prepared a three-course breakfast with cinnamon rolls, fruit salad, a spiced frittata, sausages and rich, dark coffee. Luckily, the kitchen was well stocked with canned things, but she’d had to use a couple of the precious fresh eggs that she’d bought at the train station to round out the meal, and if he didn’t come down soon, it would hardly be worth it. The table was set. Everything was ready. It was all part of her plan to win him over to her point of view.

She had the perfect scenario in mind. He would come down, fully rested, and she would have this nice breakfast prepared and laid out and he would smile and turn to her in surprise, then thank her.

And she would smile back as he sat down to eat and ask nicely, “Do you mind if I stay here for a couple of days? I just need a place where I can be away from everyone else and think about my life for a while.”

And, full of good food and rested cheer, he would see that she meant him and his family no harm, that she was really good-hearted and he would say, “Sure, be my guest.”

After all, he was probably headed to a party or a country weekend or a romantic tryst or whatever. He’d obviously just stopped here to sleep and would be on his way once he was rested. Would he let her stay here if she asked? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t run for the border in this weather, not carrying a baby. The fact that he knew her uncle well ought to help. After all, Dr. Zaire had been permanently attached to the royal family for generations. She didn’t see any reason why things shouldn’t go just the way she was planning.

In her mind she could see him finish his meal, sigh happily, then get up to leave, waving goodbye as he went, perhaps calling back, “Take good care of the old place for me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she would respond as he got back into that fancy car she’d watched arrive with such anxiety the night before and drove off into the mist toward—whatever place he was on his way to.

Simple. Logical. Why not?

There were only a few things that could make it all go wrong. The first was the fact that the food she had prepared so carefully would get so cold it would turn to cement if he didn’t come down to eat soon. And the second was… what if the baby cried?

Baby Brianna. She threw a glance at the stairway. There was no sign that the prince was awake. Quickly she made her way to the back of the house, to the tiny maid’s room where she had the baby in a makeshift crib, fashioned from a dresser drawer and some baby blankets.

A wave of emotion hit her as she looked down at the sleeping child her sister had given birth to less than two months before. Protecting Bree was all she cared about now. She was such a pretty baby with her downy peach fuzz hair and her rounded pink cheeks.

“I’m going to be your mommy from now on, sweetheart,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she thought of her sister’s tragic death. “I just hope I can do a decent job of it. I promised Julienne, and I’m going to try as hard as I can to keep that promise.”

The promise was the last thing she’d said to her sister as she lay dying. She hadn’t realized how soon she would have to put her promise to the test. As soon as she’d understood what her uncle was planning, she knew she had to get her sister’s child out of his control. Luckily, he’d been so consumed with his plotting that he hadn’t noticed the time she took to come here to the chalet and prepare to bring Brianna here.

This was to be the first step on their journey. The plan was clear. She would get on a bus, just like they’d taken to get here in the first place. As they neared the border, she would get off and head for the countryside. They might be intercepted, and just in case, she’d printed up some fake id cards on the computer. They ought to pass if no one looked too closely.

But she wasn’t really worried about that part of the trip. She’d done it many times before with her family when she was young. During the recent war, it had sometimes been the only way to get from her grandparents’ estate in Dharma back into Carnethia. She knew the route and how to avoid the checkpoints. It would be harder carrying the baby, but she could do it. She would be in Dharma in just a couple of hours, and from there it was just a short train ride to Northern Italy.

And then—what? Yes, that was the question.

Brianna’s tiny baby lips puckered for a moment, but then she sighed, still asleep. Abby smiled through her tears. She couldn’t keep thinking about the suffering in her life. For Brianna’s sake, hope was going to be the watchword from now on. Hope for a beautiful future. Hope would make her strong.

That, and just a little luck ought to do it.

Mychale closed his eyes and enjoyed the water as it beat down on his long, lean naked body. The water pressure was great here, all that energy from the mountain rivers. A shower such as this was like a good massage. If only he could beat the kinks out of his mind the same way.

He’d had a fantasy the night before of washing away Stephanie’s scent, as though that would somehow help clear up the Stephanie problem. But in the bright light of day, he knew that wasn’t going to work. Stephanie was here to stay and he was stuck with her. The wedding was scheduled for the fall.

He groaned. The whole thing was insane. How had he let his brother Dane talk him into this? But he knew exactly how. All that guilt- inducing rhetoric about duty and honor and what he owed his country and the royal house of Montenevada. He’d let Dane wear him down and now he was betrothed to a woman he could barely stand to be in the same room with. Something had to give, and he was here to figure out what that something was.

He felt better after a shower, clean and fresh and almost fully rested. He was going to find a way out of his quagmire. No problem. He would think of something. For just a moment, a wave of nausea came over him and he leaned against the wall, wondering what the hell was going on. But it evaporated quickly, leaving him with a slight sense of unease, but not much more. He would probably feel better after he ate something. And that was contingent on there being any food in the house.

He pulled on slacks and a clean shirt out of the closet. As he was buttoning his cuffs, he remembered about Abby Donair and groaned again. Another problem woman to deal with. But maybe their encounter had scared her off. Most likely, once she realized she wasn’t going to have the run of the place on her own, she’d headed out to greener pastures. The sound of rain against the windowpanes put a damper on that idea, but he kept his optimism alive.

He went down the stairs with a spring in his step. He’d always loved this big old house with its massive fireplaces and the dark wood and glass everywhere. In its day, it had seemed state-of-the-art for the sort of mansion that hung off the side of the mountain, but now it could certainly use a bit of updating. The plumbing was ancient and the colors were gloomy. He should make some plans and come up here to oversee the renovations. He could put in top-of-the- line modern appliances, granite counters in the kitchen, travertine tile in the bathrooms, maybe a sauna or two, an environmental rain room. Maybe he should move in for good, give up his playboy lifestyle and start living the life of a country gentleman. Why not?

He knew he wasn’t serious, and it made him smile to think about it.

But his smile died as he came face-to-face with Abby in the hallway. She stared at him and he stared at her and neither of them said a word, as though both were judging what to make of the other after their unusual meeting earlier that morning.

He studied her, trying to place her in a category for more comfortable judgment. She was pretty, but very young, her body nicely rounded but slender. Her long blond hair hung straight as a silk banner down her back, reaching almost to her cute little derriere. She looked like a university coed, or a throwback to the Summer of Love. He could picture her dancing to psychedelic music, spinning with a dreamy look on her face and her hair flying behind her.

“So you weren’t just a midnight fantasy after all,” he said at last.

Her dark eyes flashed and suddenly she didn’t look so young. “Of course not,” she said, her voice ripe with disdain.

“Still, that leaves us with a question hanging in the air,” he noted cynically. “What the hell are you doing here?”

CHAPTER TWO

ABBY stared into Prince Mychale’s mocking gaze for a long moment without even trying to answer his question. Something told her that, if she wasn’t careful, this could turn out very differently from her fantasy picture of a few moments ago. Drawing in a quick breath, she turned on her heel and began to walk down the hall.

“Come this way,” she said crisply over her shoulder. “I made you some breakfast.”

He had to grin at her high-handed manner. It was so obviously bravado, but why not? She needed to maintain a sense of herself and she’d come up against royalty. This was certainly better than the cringing tone some took around him. He had to admire her nerve.

So he followed, enjoying the way the length of her hair teased the rounded seat of her snug designer jeans, though he was a little too jaded to have his head turned by such simple pleasures. At least, that was what he was telling himself as he walked along with his gaze glued to the pertinent part of her anatomy.

She opened the door to the breakfast room. Floor-to-ceiling windows brought in a flood of light despite the rain. When he was young, this had been his favorite room in the house, the place where he’d read voraciously from the chalet library while the kitchen staff supplied him with drinks and snacks, along with the occasional lecture from Milly, the family cook, in the proper food etiquette for princes. She had a few helpful words for his choice of reading material a time or two as well. He remembered when she’d found a risqué magazine he’d hidden between the pages of his history book. The place had erupted like Vesuvius that day. Even his eyebrows had felt singed.

Memories flooded him for a moment, bringing on a certain melancholy. Where were all those servants now? They’d been like family back then, closer to him than his father and brothers who were off fighting while he was still in school. The house seemed an empty echo chamber without them.

But never mind. He had this lovely young woman instead, much as she tended to puzzle him, especially as he looked at the breakfast she’d prepared.

“Why?” he asked, his tone appropriately bemused.

She glanced back as she went into the kitchen to get the coffee urn. “You have to eat.”

She was right. That still didn’t explain why she should be the one to feed him, but she was right. He surveyed the room narrowly, but he was ravenous. He hadn’t had anything for over twenty-four hours. And the things she’d laid out on the table looked great.

“You didn’t put knockout drops in the coffee, did you?” he asked as he sat down at the table and watched her pour the dark liquid into his porcelain cup.

She grunted, flashing him a sideways glance. “You’ve already slept long enough.”

As though she resented it! He looked up at her and shook his head. If she really was as young as he’d presumed, she didn’t seem to know it. She was acting like a stern school- teacher, or even dear old Milly.

He frowned, remembering how she’d felt in his bed just a few hours before. That lithe body writhing beneath him hadn’t given a hint of her autocratic side. And just the thought of it made him want to study her rather delicious form more closely. He glanced in her direction, admiring the way her light sweater clung to the generous swell of her breasts. One look and he was reacting like a teenager. Clearing his throat, he carefully reined in his libido and regained control of his incorrigible imagination.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he noted dryly, taking a sip of the hot coffee and wincing at the sting. “But I’m the homeowner, aren’t I? And you’re the housebreaker? Or do I have that switched somehow?”

“I haven’t broken a thing,” she countered indignantly. “And I’m being very nice to you. Don’t forget about not biting the hand that feeds you.”

“With ingredients from my own pantry, no doubt,” he muttered as he savored a bite of the cinnamon roll. It was melt-in-your-mouth great, he had to admit. The woman could bake, at least. “Unless you brought along some supplies of your own?” He looked up in an ironic bit of challenge.

She had the grace to color slightly. “No, not really. Except for the eggs.”

She’d brought along her own eggs. Somehow that didn’t sound like your average housebreaker. More like a squatter, perhaps. That thought gave him a second of pause, but he dismissed it out of hand. She was no squatter. She was here for a reason. He had no doubt he would find out what that reason was, eventually.

“If you’re not a housebreaker, how did you get in?” he asked curiously.

For the first time, a look of pure guilt flashed in her eyes. She hesitated and he could almost see the decision-making process as it took place and she tossed out the excuses that first came to her in order to tell the truth.

“When I was young, we would come up here when the Royal family left. We…well, we figured out how to get in.”

He stared, appalled at the nerve. “You little thieves!”

“No! Oh, no, we never took anything.” Her eyes radiated complete honesty and despite his usually cynical nature, he reluctantly bought it fairly quickly. Still, that was a danger signal and he knew it.

“We just…absorbed the atmosphere.” She hugged herself, looking around the room, letting memories creep back. The war had seemed far away, but they were all aware of it looming off in the distance, like a dark cloud menacing the horizon. Larona, the village, was divided, just as the country was, but most there backed the royal family. After all, they had lived among them for generations. “We tried to imagine what it would be like to be princesses,” she added softly.

“Who’s ‘we’?” he asked gruffly, breaking off another piece of roll and savoring it.

She looked surprised. “My sister and I.” And a very young Gregor Narna. But she didn’t need to bring him into this. Memories of her sister were troubling enough.

Gregor had been the instigator of the break- ins. His father was the village veterinarian so he’d accompanied him here to the château many times to care for one or another of the horses that had been kept here in those days. Gregor himself was on a fast track to medical school, even then.

“Someday I’ll have a house like this,” he would tell his wide-eyed audience of two as they wandered through the rooms and spoke in whispers, just in case. “Just wait and see.”

How Julienne had laughed at him. “It’s not the house you care about,” she’d teased him. “You just want another glimpse of Princess Carla. We all know it!”

Abby smiled, remembering how red-faced Gregor had been as he stoutly denied it. Dear Gregor. She hadn’t seen him for years, but at that time, he’d been like a beloved older brother to her and Julienne. Then their parents had died and they’d left the Larona and the lake country to go live with their uncle, and things had never been the same.

Her eyes clouded as she thought of that and she turned away. “We never touched anything,” she said again. “We were just little girls. Coming here was like coming to an enchanted world. We loved it.”

Mychale sat back in his chair and frowned. “Wasn’t there a guard?”

“Oh, yes. There was that old bearded man who liked to walk the grounds with a shotgun over his shoulder.” She smiled remembering. “He spent most of his time fishing, though, in the river. He was easy to avoid.”

“Elias Karn.” He nodded, remembering the man. “I guess we’d better hire a replacement. You’re lucky we’ve been ignoring the old place since the restoration.”

“I know. I checked that out before…” She stopped dead. She’d almost said, “before bringing the baby here.” She was going to have to be more careful. “Before coming,” she amended quickly.

“Did you?” He gave her a quizzical look. He still couldn’t quite figure her out. “But I guess if old Elias had still been here, it wouldn’t have held you back much. If he weren’t already deceased, I’d dock his pension for inattention to his duties.”

Her smile faded. He meant his threat in jest, but it betrayed a cold streak she didn’t like. “So you’re that type, are you?” she noted, sticking her chin out. “Like to throw your weight around? I suppose you use your royalty to get into dance clubs ahead of the others and go to the front of the line at fast food restaurants.”

Her assumptions were so outrageously off the mark, he had to laugh. “You’re merciless, aren’t you?”

A rebellious look flashed across her pretty face. “I’m not a child,” she said, as though somehow he’d implied she was.

“No,” he agreed, cutting into more of the wonderful breakfast she’d prepared. “But you considered this your childhood haunt. And now you’re back.”

“But I won’t be here long,” she added quickly.

“You got that right,” he muttered, his mouth full of the most delicious frittata he’d ever tasted. “I’ll drive you down to the village as soon as the rain lets up.”

“Oh, I can’t go to the village,” she protested, looking alarmed.

He stared at her. “Why not?”

“They…they know me there.” Suddenly this young woman who had been so forthright was avoiding his gaze. “None of my family is left, but my family home was right in the middle of town. I’d be recognized in no time, and I really don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”

He frowned, remembering what she’d said the night before about being related to Dr. Zaire. “Doesn’t your uncle know where you’ve gone?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No one knows. Except you, of course.” She looked at him intensely. “Swear you won’t tell.”

“I’m not swearing anything.”

He studied her for a moment, not quite sure what to make of her. He’d had women hide in his room before. He’d found women in his bed, had one climb up to a balcony to get to him. At first he’d thought she might be one of that type.

But now he realized this wasn’t that at all. Sitting there, gnawing on her lower lip, she had trouble in her eyes. No, she was definitely not trying to entice him in any way. A faint grin played at the corners of his mouth. He rather liked the novelty.

“Where is it that you’re going?” she asked him earnestly.

“Going?” It seemed an odd question.

She threw a hand out. “Well, I imagine you’re on your way somewhere.”

“No.” He shook his head. She didn’t seem to want to accept that this was still his base, his home. It had been for years while his family engaged in the violent rebellion that had finally taken back their government almost a year before. The mountain lakes area had never really been in the hands of the Acredonnas, the dictatorial regime that had kept this country in its sway for almost fifty years. Mychale and his family had often used it as their refuge throughout their long exile. Of course, in those days the perimeter of the estate was bristling with guards and firepower while the royal family was here. Who knew little girls sneaked right onto the property and violated all security rules whenever the entourage decamped?

Once the rebels had been tossed out and the monarchy had reestablished itself, the base of operations had shifted to the palace in the capital, but that didn’t mean this area wasn’t still important to the family. It was just as much their home as the palace was. Tradition and affection would make sure it always remained so.

“This was my destination,” he told her, flexing his shoulders and looking around the room. “I’m here.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. “You’re going to stay here?”

“That’s the plan.” He finished his meal and sighed with contentment, then looked at her. “Why do I get the distinct impression that you want me to go?”

She hesitated. “It’s not that, exactly. But…” She took a deep breath and charged ahead. “Well, I was going to ask you if I could stay here. Just for a few days.”

Her dark eyes beseeched him and he had to admit, they were awfully appealing. But the question was ridiculous. The woman wasn’t a complete stranger to him, but it was close. And anyway, he’d come here to accomplish that wasn’t going to be easy. He needed room and focus, not an audience.

He shook his head emphatically. “Sorry. I’m going to be using the place.”

She looked skeptical. “The whole place? All by yourself?” Her face changed. “Oh, maybe you’re having friends join you?”

He groaned. “Oh, I hope not.”

“Then…”

He felt a twinge and squelched it quickly. No, he could not let himself go soft.

“Listen…what was your name again?”

“Abby. Abby Donair.”

“Abby Donair.” His brow furled as he thought about that for a moment. He could remember her pretty face but he couldn’t place the name.

“Listen, Abby,” he went on. “I drove all the way out here in order to be alone. I’ve got some heavy thinking to do, and I can’t do that with you hanging around. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go.”

Mychale sat back as though that settled the matter. It was more than obvious that he was used to people falling in line once he handed down the word. She wanted to glare at him but she knew that wouldn’t get her very far. Still, wasn’t that just like a prince? Or any man, for that matter.

She had just licked her upper lip, preparing an answer, when a new thought occurred to her. She looked at him sharply. She’d been thinking about herself, but she ought to be wondering why he would be out here in the middle of nowhere, needing to think things over. She could only think of one thing. It had to be because of the scandal that had been rocking the palace two days before when she’d taken off with her sister’s baby. No wonder he seemed a bit out of sorts. The whole royal family was in an uproar, from what she’d heard. Her main problem was going to be to keep him from connecting the whole affair to her—and Brianna.

“I guess all your family is pretty upset about…things,” she began tentatively.

“Things?” He looked at her blankly. “What things?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t know about the scandal? Where had he been hiding? Didn’t he pay any attention to the tabloids?

“Where have you been over the last few days?” she asked him bluntly.

He shrugged and looked uncomfortable. If only he could blot out that last week of his life. “On a cruise. Mediterranean.”

“I see.” Oh my. She was in luck, wasn’t she? “No communication with the outside world at all, huh?”

“No.” He frowned at her. “Why? Did somebody bomb the palace?”

“Not exactly.” But kinda-sorta.

The bomb wasn’t physical, though. It came in newsprint. But if he didn’t know anything about it, he would never make any sort of connection to her. She could probably rest easy on that score. At least for now.

He was frowning, thinking back over his last few days. “Come to think of it, I have been incommunicado for too long. I didn’t even listen to news on the drive up here, just music.” He raised one dark eyebrow and looked at her openly. “So let’s have it. What went wrong?”

“Wrong?” She blinked at him, casually innocent. “I didn’t say anything went wrong.”

He frowned suspiciously. She had said exactly that and now she was equivocating. He wasn’t buying it. “Maybe I should call home,” he said, looking around the room.

“No telephone service,” she reminded him with a shaky smile. “Everything’s disconnected.”

He patted his pocket and frowned. “I left my mobile in the car.”

Her smile was wider now and she spread out her arms expansively. “No mobile service way up here, anyway, “she reminded him.

“Oh. That’s right.” Rising from the table, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks and began to pace restlessly. “I suppose I could find a radio and…” His voice faded and he looked at her and sighed. “I know. No electricity.” He frowned. “I assume you’re the one who lit the pilot and turned the gas on. So why didn’t you start the generator?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t dare try to do that.” She hesitated, then added, “And besides, turning on the lights would have given a signal to anyone down the mountain that someone was in here. And I didn’t want to do that.”

He nodded, agreeing with that sentiment all the way. Giving her a crooked grin, he asked, “Got any carrier pigeons handy?”

She shook her head, but her smile quickly faded. This little exchange was bringing home to her just how isolated the two of them were. And this prince had quite a reputation. Maybe she shouldn’t be so cavalier about wanting to spend time with him—or in the same house, at any rate.

As though he read her mind, he stopped in front of where she was sitting and reached out to take her chin with his hand, tilting her face up toward his.

“Tell me, Abby,” he said, looking down into her dark eyes with a mesmerizing light in his own. “What is the latest from the outside world that I don’t know about?”

“Why, nothing.” She made her eyes wide and innocent. “I can’t think of a thing.”

He didn’t believe her and he didn’t draw back his hand. Instead his long fingers flared out and made a long, slow stroke of her cheek, making her gasp softly. Her skin sizzled beneath his touch and her heart was beating just a little too fast. What was he planning to do?

“How long have you been here, anyway?” he asked.

“I…uh, only about one day.” Meaning two. But who was counting at this point? There was a prince holding her face. Her mind was losing its moorings. Her ears were full of a strange buzzing sound and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to lose her way in the depths of his deep blue eyes.

But suddenly his bright gaze faltered. He seemed to grimace and then he backed away, shaking his head and looking a little green about the gills.

“What the hell?” he muttered, reaching out to brace himself against the wall.

She stared at him, shocked to see him losing a bit of the tight control he usually maintained, but then she realized he must not be feeling well.

“Sit down,” she ordered, slipping off the chair and touching his arm. “I’ll put on a kettle and make you some tea. That’ll help.”

He shook his head and seemed to shake off whatever it was that had come over him.

“No, don’t bother, I’m okay,” he said, looking around as though not sure whether to trust himself for a moment, but she had already left for the kitchen stove and was filling the kettle from the faucet. A nice cup of tea had been her mother’s remedy for whatever ailed you, and she realized with a twinge that she seemed to have inherited the habit.

Coming back into the breakfast room, she studied him curiously. He still didn’t look quite right but he wouldn’t sit down. Instead he was standing at the tall window, looking out at the rain, which was now coming down in sheets again.

“If this keeps up, we’re going to have to find Noah to build us an ark,” he said.

“Noah mainly saves animals,” she noted. “Two by two. Remember?”

He nodded. “So you’re saying we’re just flat out of luck?”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” she said stoutly. “We’ll have to rely on our own resources.”

Swinging around, he gave her a baleful look. “Tell me the truth, Abby,” he said softly, his crystal-blue gaze traveling over her in a restless way. “If you were being forced into a situation where you were going to have to do something you absolutely hated, something that made you ill to think of, and yet you were told it was your sworn duty to do it, what would you do?”

She stared at him and her heart leaped into her throat. That was her own situation in a nutshell. How could he possibly know? “I…” She swallowed hard, trying to calm her pulse rate. “Your royal highness, I…”

He grimaced, then gave her a half grin. “Come come, Abby. It’s just the two of us here, and we’ve already been to bed together. We won’t stand on ceremony. Call me Mychale.”

She shook her head, then resisted the urge to curtsy. “As you wish, your highness,” she muttered, completely confused. What he’d just said led her to believe that he must know why she was here, why she was running from her uncle and his plans for her future. And if he knew, why wasn’t he threatening her with prosecution? That was what any normal prince would do.

But no. Catching the look on his face and remembering how she’d probed for what he knew about the scandal and he’d been completely clueless, she realized she was jumping to a wrong conclusion. He was talking about something else, something that had him uneasy in his own right.

She took a deep breath and relaxed. Strange, but the few things he’d just said, including inviting her to refer to him informally, had reminded her of her place as nothing else had up to now. She was nervous as a cat, her fingers working at the hem of her sweater, wondering what he would say next.

But before he could say anything else, a sound wafted its way down the hallways and into the breakfast room where they were standing. The prince turned, frowning. “What was that?”

“The storm,” she said quickly, turning back toward the kitchen. “You know how the wind can wail around an old house like this.” She glanced back, ready to escape. “The water for your tea should be done soon. I’ll just…”

“It’s not the storm. There. Do you hear it?” He looked toward the back of the house. “What was that?”

“What?” She turned and listened, heart sinking. The sound was unique and unmistakable. Brianna was calling out for a little adult attention.

“That noise. What is it?” He looked at her accusingly.

She swallowed hard and wished the thunder would come back. Brianna’s cry was gathering steam.

“Uh, I don’t know. The storm is probably…”

He turned on her, a look of astonishment in his deep blue eyes. “Abby, there’s a baby in this house.”

She shook her head, looking longingly toward the kitchen. “I think it’s probably… uh, doves in the eaves,” she tried.

His gaze crackled. “I don’t think so.” His look of pure skepticism stung. He just flat didn’t believe a word she was saying. And why should he?

“It’s a baby,” he said evenly. “I know a baby when I hear one. Unless we’ve got gypsies in the closets, it’s got to be yours.” He shook his head, looking up as though appealing to heaven. “A baby. What next?”

She went scarlet. She might have known she would end up revealing the baby. Never mind. Her thoughts went into fever mode. Before he had a chance to turn her in, she would grab Brianna and be over the border, even if she had to do it in the rain. That was the answer. She would go back into her original plan of action. No problem. She’d been speculating all along that as soon as the weather cleared and things dried out enough, she would bundle the baby up and they would head for the neighboring country. That had always been in the cards. She would just have to shift things up a bit. Once she was over the border…

And once again, this was where the plan got a little rough. Where the heck was she ultimately going to go? Somehow she’d been sure a good scheme would present itself once she got this far. Unfortunately that hadn’t happened yet.

“Where’d the baby come from?” he was saying. He stood right in front of her, his face only inches from hers, his gaze demanding an answer.

She shrugged helplessly, head full of fears, heart full of tears. If he only knew how much that question hurt. “I…I can’t…”

His gaze was cold now, cold and rather scary. “Come clean, Abby. Let’s have it. The truth this time.”

She was losing hope and she knew he could see it in her eyes. She would have to tell him something. She would give him some truth. But not the whole truth. She couldn’t do that.

“Okay,” she said at last, twisting her hands together. “I do have a baby with me.” There. She’d said it. She closed her eyes for a moment, as though the world were about to fall on her.

But nothing happened. The prince didn’t even speak. He just waited, watching her. She blinked, then hurriedly tried to fill the awkward silence with some sort of explanation. “So you see, that’s why I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t take a baby out in this weather. I have to wait until the rain clears out. Surely you can see that.”

He stared at her.

“I just need a place to stay until the rain stops,” she tried again, but he wasn’t listening.

“Let’s go.” He jerked his head in the direction of the tiny cries. “I want to see this baby.”

She hadn’t expected that. She blanched. She really didn’t think this was a good idea. “Oh, but…”

“I want to see the baby. Now.”

His gaze was cool and direct and his tone was downright royal. She suddenly sensed the power of his heritage. It swept over her like a physical force. She felt as though it had blown her hair back and she had to gulp to keep from losing her breath.

She wanted to argue. It was in her nature to protest when she thought something was not quite right. She tried. She felt the urge rise in her. But somehow she couldn’t get the words out. And he began to look very large. Surely she wasn’t scared of him—was she? Well, maybe, just a little bit. But she would never let him know.

Turning, she gave him a quick sideways glance and started toward the maid’s room.

He followed right behind her.

CHAPTER THREE

ABBY PICKED up the baby and cuddled her against her shoulder, turning to look defiantly at the prince.

“Her name is Brianna,” she said, her eyes daring him to say anything negative about the child. “She’s two months old.”

Prince Mychale made no attempt to come into the room. He stood in the doorway, his handsome face a picture of puzzlement, as though the underpinnings of his world had just given way and he was floating in a world he wasn’t ready for.

“Why would you bring a baby to a place like this?” he asked as though he really couldn’t understand it.

She blinked at him. “What’s wrong with bringing a baby here? You were probably here as a baby.”

“Right. With a full cadre of servants and nannies. With electricity and all the other accoutrements of modern life.” He shook his head, looking disgruntled as he stared at her. “You bring a baby here in the middle of a huge storm. I don’t even know how you got here. There’s no car outside, except for mine.” He frowned, shrugged and said, like a man at the end of his rope, “Abby, what the hell are you doing here?”

Any hopes that a baby would charm him flew right out the window. Abby bit her lip. How was she going to explain what she was doing here without letting on what she was really doing here?

Brianna had quieted, but only for a moment. Now she gave a shuddering sob and began to fuss a little. Abby pulled her out to where the prince could see her pretty little face.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she cooed to the child. “He’s just a big, bad old prince. I know he’s scary looking, but he won’t hurt you.” She glanced at him from under her brows. “Try smiling,” she advised. “That might help.”

Smiling. Right.

He didn’t feel like smiling. He was, in fact, beginning to feel more trapped than happy. He’d come out here to his childhood refuge to find some peace and quiet in order to think through a very important step he was about to take. And all he’d had since he got here was one distracting jolt after another. Including the shrill wail of the kettle now boiling away noisily in the distant kitchen.

Okay, this was just too much. He could hardly think straight, much less deeply. And now he was supposed to smile at the baby? No chance.

She kissed the baby’s little round cheek. “You don’t know much about babies, do you?” she said.

Babies? Since when did princes know anything about babies? It wasn’t in his job description. “Sorry, we didn’t cover child care in my classes at university,” he said with just a hint of sarcasm.

“That’s obvious,” she said, and her flashing glance his way told him without words to watch his tone. She smirked at him. “They know when people hate them.”

He shook his head in disbelief. How could she say such a thing? “I don’t hate children,” he protested.

“Really?” She looked intently into Brianna’s face. “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to think you like her.”

“That’s not true.” What was not to like? She was a baby. Who didn’t like babies? As long as they stayed in their own little rooms and in their own little play-yards where they belonged and didn’t get in the way of adults. “I like her just fine.”

“Really?” She looked up and held his gaze with her own, looking solidly accusatory.

He took a step into the room in his determination to prove it to her. “Abby, I like babies. Babies make the world go ’round. Every baby is a link in God’s great daisy chain.”

Oops. He probably hadn’t done himself any favors with that last quip. The way her beautiful eyes were flashing, he could tell she didn’t think it was especially amusing. Still, that didn’t stop her.

She did have a moment of hesitation, remembering he wasn’t feeling well. But he looked OK now. “Good,” she said, moving fast. “Then you can hold her while I go fix your tea.”

“What?”

By the time he realized what was happening and tried to back away, it was too late. He had a baby in his arms. And he was all alone. Abby was off toward the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder, “Take care to protect her head. Don’t let it bobble.”

“Bobble?” He repeated the word because he didn’t know what else to do. “Bobble?” Here he was holding this sodden mass of baby flesh, fuzzy things draped all around it, staring down at two midnight-blue eyes that stared up at him as though he’d just landed on the nearest alien launch pad and might be contemplating a quick meal. If babies could fly, this one would be on its way.

“Uh, hi,” he said hopefully. Hadn’t Abby said to smile? He tried it and actually seemed to have a little success. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

The lower lip was trembling and the round eyes were filling with tears. A flash of pure panic rocketed through his soul. Smiles weren’t working. Maybe a song.

“‘That’s why the lady is a tramp,’” he crooned.

The little girl drew in a shuddering breath and her shoulders began to shake.

“No, no, don’t cry,” he begged. “Look, funny faces.” He tried one, then another. Things were only getting worse. Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth twisted in agony as she let out an earth-shattering wail.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, drawing her close in against his shoulder the way he’d seen Abby do it. “It’s all right. Really it is. No one is going to hurt you.” He gave the tiny back a few awkward pats and began to walk around the room. He cast a longing glance at the dresser drawer made up like a bed, but he didn’t dare put her down there without consulting Abby first. He didn’t have a doubt in the world that he would surely do something wrong if he tried it.

She was crying softly now, a baby in despair. He would have thought it would annoy him, but for some reason, it broke his heart instead. Poor little thing. She wanted her mom. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he found himself singing a song.

“Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop.”

Funny. He didn’t even remember that he knew that song. It must have bubbled up from his subconscious. Either that, or it was in the ether, part of the zeitgeist, or whatever. He went on and on. He knew every damn word! And he found himself rocking back and forth to the rhythm the song created. What was going on here? Was he channeling another life? Or another level of his own existence? Maybe the experiences he’d had as a baby were stuck in his brain somewhere, just waiting to pop out at the right moment. In any case, it seemed to do the trick. The squirming little mass in his arms began to relax. The crying began to fade. He walked faster and sang harder.

“I think you’ve put her to sleep.”

He looked up in surprise to find Abby back, smiling in the doorway. “I have?” It was true there was no more crying. And the little bundle he carried had gone from creating a painful burden to feeling like something rather wonderful. Funny.

Abby nodded, finger to her lips. “Here,” she whispered. “Let me have her. I’ll put her down.” She took the baby from him and nodded toward the front of the house. “I put your tea on the table. Why don’t you go on out? I’ll join you in a minute.”

He left gratefully. There was a certain amount of triumph in having put the baby to sleep, but that was all the celebration he needed right now. He’d prefer keeping out of the baby-sitting business. It was a comfort just to know that Abby and her baby wouldn’t be here much longer.

Back in the living area, he returned to the window and stood staring out, feeling moody and a bit strange. He probably hadn’t caught up on his sleep yet. Maybe that was why he felt like he couldn’t quite get his balance at times.

But sleep wasn’t what he’d come here for. Thinking. Planning. Finding a way to break his engagement to Stephanie Hollenbeck without getting disowned by his family and expelled by his country. That was the puzzle he’d come here to unravel. And he knew damn well he would need some peace and quiet to do it in. He’d come all the way out here to think about what he was going to do about Stephanie, and instead, he’d spent every waking moment so far dealing with a runaway girl and her baby. This was no good. No good at all.

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