The Prince's Secret Bride

Carla had lived a strange, schizoid existence, sometimes thrust into the midst of bloody battles as the family fled attack, at other times treated as though she were the proverbial pampered princess to be kept away from ordinary life as long as possible. Their mother had died two years ago and their father, the king, very recently. When she’d been alive their mother had always acted as though Carla’s primary role in life was to wait for the right eligible swain to present his credentials and get permission to sweep her off her feet. So Carla had waited. But the war and other things had cluttered the time up and now, in her early twenties, he knew she was beginning to fear she had waited too long.

Seeing the look in his eyes, Carla knew he was thinking about her situation. She appreciated his compassion, but a little action on her behalf would be more useful. Princesses were usually betrothed by now. And no one seemed to be doing anything about it.

When she’d taken her fears to their aunt Kitty, the older woman had reassured her.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she’d said, patting her hand lovingly. “I’m sure your brothers will always need looking after. If you don’t get married, there will always be a place for you at the palace.”

It had been a shock to realize her aunt didn’t think much of her chances either. If only she’d been born beautiful, the way her brothers were handsome, things would have been so much easier. She wasn’t bitter, but it did seem unfair.

“You seem beautiful to me,” her father had always said, but that, obviously, didn’t help at all.

She’d decided, if it came down to it, she would run away to another country, change her identity and join a dressage team training for the Olympics. Why not? She was good at working with horses. Better that than feeling like a piece of furniture half of the time.

The woman Nico had settled onto the couch was beautiful. Carla smiled as she looked her over. She was as happy to admire beauty as the next person. But as she looked, she noticed the woman’s rounded stomach.

“Uh-oh. It looks like she’s got a little traveler along for the ride.” She shook her head, frowning. “Darn. Does that mean she’s already married?”

The prince moved away restlessly. “I’m not really sure about that.”

“Oh?” She straightened and gazed at him questioningly.

He shoved his hands down into the pockets of his slacks. “She’s…well, it’s a bit complicated, but she got mugged tonight and now it seems she’s not sure who she is.”

“Amnesia?” Carla’s silver-blue eyes, so like Nico’s, glittered with interest.

“Maybe.”

Carla turned back to look at her. “No traditional rings.” She tilted her head, considering the silent woman. “I’d say she’s unattached.”

“Carla…” he said warningly.

“But then, I’m an optimist.” She allowed herself a quick look of concern before she went back to needling her brother. “Of course, you’ve as good a chance as anyone at turning her head.”

He groaned.

“But that doesn’t explain why she fainted.” Turning, she gave him an arch look. “You’ve obviously terrified the poor dear. What on earth did you do to her?”

“Nothing at all,” he said defensively. “She just…well, when she realized who I was…”

Carla laughed and threw up her hands. “Of course. That would be enough to scare any girl into a stupor.”

He turned away with a snort. “Where’s that damn doctor?”

“He was probably sound asleep when Chauncy called him,” Carla said, getting a confirming nod from the butler. The doctor’s house, where he lived with his wife and the two nieces they’d taken in when they had been orphaned, was at the far edge of the compound. “It is after midnight. Don’t worry, he’ll get here.” She smiled as she watched her brother go back to pacing the floor.

Marisa was lying very still, her eyes closed, her mind drifting. If she stayed very quiet, maybe she could pretend she was asleep and dreaming and she could put off the reality of her situation. The murmured voices of the others in the room were muted, washing around her. Still, try as she might, she couldn’t help but hear what they were saying.

It was all a little too much right now. Somehow she had walked out of her own everyday reality and stepped into a fantasy—she’d just been carried into a palace in the arms of a prince, for heaven’s sake! And she couldn’t even remember how or why she got here.

Carefully, she tried to reconstruct her day, but she couldn’t remember anything that had happened before she found herself on the cold bridge walkway with a lump on her head. She’d tried to shake off the dizziness and she was aware of a man throwing her suitcase and purse over the side of the bridge. What had happened to him? By the time she’d regained her feet, she’d noticed Nico coming toward her and the man who’d attacked her was nowhere to be seen.

The rest was a muddle of clearing her head and walking along with the man she now knew was Prince Nico. There was a stop for something to eat in a café, but what had happened there was blurry. And then the prince had brought her here.

He and his sister were talking as though they didn’t think she could hear a thing they were saying. She knew she ought to open her eyes and sit up and join in, but she still needed a moment or two to regroup. Just a moment or two.

“Be serious for a minute,” the prince was saying, reacting in exasperation to something his sister had said. “And tell me what we’re going to do with her.”

“Don’t think twice, Nico. I’ve already got the second-floor maids up, running a bath, preparing the peach room, laying out nightclothes.”

His tone turned reluctantly admiring. “I have to admit, you’re nothing if not efficient.”

“I do my best. Just trying to make sure that your little treasure has a place to lay her head.”

“Excuse me, Your Highness.”

Marisa frowned slightly at the new voice that was practically a whisper, then realized it was the butler.

“Yes, Chauncy?”

“I hesitate to intrude, but I thought it might be wise to point out another factor that might have upset the young lady.”

“And what is that?” Nico sounded just a bit impatient and she could see why. The man sounded conniving to her, too.

“We live in perilous times, Your Highness. I don’t think you can afford to rule out the possibility that she might be… affiliated with the opposition in some way and was shocked to find herself ensconced with the enemy, so to speak.”

“Nonsense. Chauncy, you see enemies behind every bush.”

“Of course, Your Highness. I beg your pardon for speaking so candidly.”

Marisa lay very still and wondered if she was part of the opposition. She didn’t know the answer to that question, but she did know she had to get out of here. Carla had called her a treasure. What on earth had she meant by that? Unbidden, an old Carnethian folk song trailed its way into her mind. The refrain repeated, “Oh what a lucky girl, to be the prince’s plaything.” The phrase was said with bitter irony and added a bad feeling to this crazy mix. Royalty played exotic games in a rarified atmosphere she wasn’t used to. She didn’t belong here.

And something was tugging at her—some responsibility she hadn’t met, or some errand she hadn’t completed. She had to go, even if she didn’t know where.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, just as the doctor arrived, but it was the prince’s gaze she met first. The connection that sparked between them made her gasp softly. She hadn’t realized before just how blue those eyes were, or how provocative. She saw something there that set off alarms inside her and sent her heart into a thumping frenzy. But maybe she was imagining things, because a moment later his look was cool and impassive and he was speaking to the doctor as though she were a homeless person he’d found in the street. Which she was, wasn’t she?

The only time he revealed a flash of emotion was when the doctor turned to him almost accusingly.

“This woman is pregnant,” he said, looking sternly at the prince.

Nico’s face hardened and he stared at the man. “I just met her tonight,” he said icily.

It was obvious the two men didn’t care much for each other, but Marisa didn’t have time to dwell on that fact. Dr. Zavier examined her quickly and dispassionately, then declared her well enough for now. He found nothing physically wrong, other than a bump on the head, and prescribed lots of rest and plenty of fluids and promised to look in on her in the morning.

Marisa agreed with that diagnosis. She was fine, really. Just tired and a bit confused. She sat up as the doctor left, then looked hesitantly into the prince’s eyes, wary of seeing whatever that was she’d seen a few moments before, but his gaze was bland, revealing nothing more than vaguely impatient interest, and she relaxed. She was probably being a ninny and she hated that. Squaring her shoulders, she resolved to be stronger from now on. Just as soon as that was possible.

Nico introduced her to Carla, his sister, who immediately took over and ushered her down the hall and up the stairs and into a warm bath, chattering in a friendly manner all the while. Two chambermaids helped and Marisa didn’t have to do a thing. Before she knew it, she was clean and smelling delicious with her dirt-stained clothes exchanged for a silky nightdress that felt like heaven. And finally, Carla led her to a luxuriously plush canopied bed in a beautiful room decorated in peach and gold. By the time Marisa had caught her breath, she knew it was all too much.

“I should go,” she protested weakly, knowing she was in danger of letting herself be seduced by all this cosseting.