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“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.
