Raye Morgan - Taming the Lost Prince

“Hey, gorgeous, it’s been almost two years, hasn’t it?”

She nodded, her head swimming. He was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, still hard and handsome, still looking like a playful rascal and a bit of a rogue. His thick rust-colored hair seemed to have a constant breeze blowing through it, his mischievous blue eyes were framed by eyelashes so thick, it was almost criminal, and his mouth looked so deliciously sensual, it ought to be censored. That was Max, just as she remembered him. Lord how she’d missed him!

“So what are you doing here?” he asked, looking completely bemused.

“I came to…to sort of arrest you. In a way.” She made a face. What a farce.

“Arrest me?” At last he focused on the security guards behind her. He frowned. “What did I do now?”

“Oh Max,” she sighed. “Why can’t you be good?”

“Kayla, my sweet,” he said grinning at her, “you know that’s not in my nature.”

Dear Reader,

This is the last book of a series of six about the lost princes of Ambria, a lovely, fog-shrouded, fictitious island nation off the coast of Western Europe. All the princes have been found and brought back home again. Their family, which was shattered and torn apart when their parents were killed by the Granvilli rebellion almost thirty years ago, is reconnected and healed about as well as it can be. Goodness and mercy are back in the land.

Too bad all our problems can’t be solved so easily—but then, we’re not royal, are we?

It’s been something of a royal year, what with the Westminster Abbey wedding of Prince William and beautiful Kate Middleton and all the excitement and celebration that surrounded it. This wonderful couple brought back star power to the British monarchy, a sense of special magic that reminds us why fairy tales so often feature princes and princesses. Larger than life, the focus of dreams. No wonder we love it all.

Prince Max and the woman he loves, who is secretly raising his child, need a bit of that magic to find their happy ending. They have to struggle through misunderstandings, a kidnapping and a heavy shared sadness that almost destroys their love. I hope you enjoy being a witness to the way they manage to capture their dream.

Thank you for reading my story.

Regards!

Raye Morgan

RAYE MORGANhas been a nursery-school teacher, a travel agent, a clerk and a business editor, but her best job ever has been writing romances—and fostering romance in her own family at the same time. Current score: two boys married, two more to go. Raye has published more than seventy romances, and claims to have many more waiting in the wings. She lives in Southern California, with her husband and whichever son happens to be staying at home at the moment.

Raye Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to Nick and Jenn, and most of

all to CB, the new prince in our family.

PRINCE MAX leaned out over the edge of the wrought-iron rail on the balcony. A light rain was falling but he hardly noticed. He was at least the equivalent of five floors up. The castle garden below looked farther away than that. A strange, shivering impulse inside made him wonder what would happen if he jumped.

Too late now. A few weeks ago he could have jumped. He could have ended his worthless life with a flourish. No one would have cared.

But now he had a new life—new responsibilities. People were beginning to expect things of him. What the hell made them think he could possibly deliver?

Actually, this might be a better time to jump. Maybe he would find out he could fly. It looked so simple. All he had to do was spread his wings. He knew what it felt like to fly. He’d been flying ancient crates from past wars for years now. Flying planes was the one thing he knew he was good at. But taking that leap on his own would be different.

No, he wasn’t going to jump. He wasn’t going to mock his fate by trying to fly without a plane. Self-destruction wasn’t really his style. But he did have a peacock feather he’d picked up in the castle gardens. He held it out.

“Fly and be free,” he muttered to it. And then he let it go. It began its long, meandering flight toward the ground and he leaned out even farther, watching it go. It flashed back colors, blue and green and gold. As it neared the ground, it started to spin crazily. He laughed. “Go, baby,” he murmured to it. “Do your thing.”

The feather hit the ground and his laughter faded away. Now it was caught, just like he was. A short flight to nowhere.

“Hey,” a candy-coated feminine voice said to him. “Don’t lean out so far. You’ll fall.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. Was he ready for this? Did he need it?

“You okay, mister?” she said.

He turned slowly, wondering if she realized who he was. Probably not. He was dressed for hiking, not for the ball. But he thought he’d seen her before, passed her in the halls. He recognized the look. And he knew the drill. Either he gave her a simple friendly nod and went on his way, or he smiled at her suggestively and things went on from there. His choice. He could tell she was ready. Eager even. A part of him groaned.

But he couldn’t give in to that. What the hell? He was young. Life was there to be lived. And who knew how much longer he’d be free to follow where his urges led him?

“I’m fine,” he said, and he smiled.

“You’re wet,” she countered flirtatiously.

He shook his head like a sheepdog. Water flew everywhere. She gave a little shriek and then she laughed.

“You’d better come on to my place and get dry,” she offered.

“Your place?” he repeated questioningly.

“Sure. My room is on this floor. I’m only a few doors away. You need to dry off. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold, would you?”

His gaze made an exploratory journey down the length of her, from her spiked, fire-engine-red hair, down to her full lips, lingering on her hourglass figure. His look was insolent. He knew it. And he also knew she was the type of woman who liked that sort of thing.

“Sure, why not?” he said. Anything was better than joining the other royals at this ridiculous ball the queen had cooked up. A few hours with this willing playmate might be just the thing to help him get rid of this feeling of doom that was hanging over him. “You’re like an angel of mercy, aren’t you? Always on the lookout for someone in trouble.”

Her smile had a wicked sparkle to it. “Not really,” she said. “I’m kind of picky about who I help.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And I made the grade?”

Her eyes widened appreciatively. “Oh, yeah. You’ll do.”

He pretended to bow. “I’m honored.”

She giggled and led the way.

* * *

Queen Pellea swept into the royal office and glared at Kayla Mandrake. “So where is he?” she demanded.

Kayla jumped up from her desk, shaking her head. That sinking feeling she’d been fighting since she’d found out who the new prince actually was had come back with a vengeance. “I haven’t seen him at all,” she said. “I thought he was supposed to be here….”

Pellea grabbed the back of a chair, her knuckles white. “Of course he was. He was given complete instructions. And he blew them off, as usual. Everyone is waiting in the ballroom.”

“Shall I make an announcement over the speaker system?”

Pellea looked pained. “Oh, Kayla, you’ve been in Paris all this time and you don’t know how things have been. This guy is driving me crazy.”

Kayla held back a grin. That was Max. He drove everyone crazy.

“He’ll settle down,” she told the queen without really believing it herself. “Once he understands the way we do things.”

“The more he understands, the more he flouts the rules. You’re going to have to go out and track him down.”

Pellea made a sound of angry impatience and tossed her head in frustration. She was wearing a spectacular gown—deep blue silk threaded with gold, strapless, form-fitting, with a skirt cut to move sinuously as she danced…or walked. Kayla felt frumpy in her simple skirt and sweater.

“And I hope you’re prepared to kill him when you find him,” Pellea said dramatically.

“Your Majesty,” Kayla began, beginning to give in to a touch of anxiety. She was trying to think of a new excuse for him on the fly—but something that wouldn’t get her fired. The queen did have her emotional moments.

“Don’t.” Pellea held up a hand like a crossing guard. “I don’t want to hear any tales of woe. I don’t want to hear explanations and confessions. All I want is Prince Maximillian here where I can punish him.” She shivered with what looked like anticipation. “Or his head on a platter. That would do.” Her dark eyes flashed. “Do you understand?”

Kayla nodded. Despite everything, she was working hard to suppress a grin. She didn’t dare let it show. Pellea was so angry.

The trouble was, she knew very well that the Max she had known was sure to make Pellea even angrier as time went by. There was nothing she could do to avoid it.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll do my best.”

“Just find him!”

Queen Pellea swept out like the storm she could sometimes resemble. Kayla took a deep breath and steadied herself. What now? How was she supposed to find a rebel prince who obviously didn’t want to be found?

It was always this way with Max. Rules were made for other people, not for him. He was easily the most infuriating—and the most charming—man she’d ever known. Just the thought that she would see him again any moment gave her a thrill that was electric. But it also gave her a dull, pounding headache. How was she going to work this? Heaven only knew.

She started by making a few phone calls. There were guards everywhere and security officers working the monitors at special locations. If he was in the castle, someone must have seen him. And some had. She got a lead here and there, and finally, an actual sighting from a hall guard who’d seen him disappear into the apartment of a local girl who was well-known for partying.

“Of course,” Kayla muttered acidly. “I should have known.”

She started off toward the place like a rocket, but deep in her heart, she dreaded the whole confrontation ahead of her. What was she going to do once she got to the door? Barge in on a seduction? She shuddered as she punched in the floor designation on the elevator panel.

“Darn you, Max,” she whispered. “Do you always have to make life so hard?”

She thought about the last time she’d seen him, almost two years ago, his thick, bronzed hair disheveled, his eyes bleary with pain. Emotional pain. They’d both been in agony that night, both mourning over the same tragedy. The next thing she’d known, he was gone.

The elevator doors slid open silently and she stepped off, heart beating, head aching. It was only a few steps to the doorway. She stood in front of it, wishing she were anywhere else. Her phone buzzed and she pulled it open. It was Pellea, of course.

“Yes?”

“Have you found him yet?”

She sighed. “I’ve got his location. I’m about to go in and see….”

“Watch him,” Pellea warned. “If there’s a balcony, he’ll jump.”