Raye Morgan - Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! / Valentine Bride

“I’ll take my food into the library,” he offered. “Just don’t forget and bring your guest in there.”

“I won’t,” she said back softly, watching him go and then hurrying to the entryway.

It was Magda, her hairdresser, making plans for their session. The older woman was dressed like a gypsy with scarves and belts everywhere. She was a bit of a character, but she had a definite talent with hair.

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” she warned. “You be ready. I’m going to need extra time to weave your hair around the tiara. It’s not what I usually do, you know.”

“Yes, I know, Magda,” Pellea said, smiling. “And I appreciate that you are willing to give it a try. I’m sure we’ll work something out together.”

Magda grumbled a bit, but she seemed to be looking forward to the challenge. “Half an hour,” she warned again as she started off toward the supply room to prepare for the session.

Pellea had just begun to close the gate when Kimmee came breezing around the corner.

“Hi,” she called, rushing forward. “Don’t close me out.”

Pellea gave her a welcoming smile but didn’t encourage her to come into the courtyard. “I’m in a bit of a hurry tonight,” she warned her. “I’ve got the hairdresser coming and…”

“I just need to give your gown a last-minute check for wrinkles,” Kimmee said cheerfully, ignoring Pellea’s obvious hint and coming right on in.

“Where is he?” she whispered, eyes sparkling, as she squeezed past.

“Who?” Pellea responded, startled.

Kimmee grinned. “I saw him when I was here earlier. You were out, but he was here.” She winked. “I said hello.” She looked around, merrily furtive. “We spoke.”

“Oh.”

Pellea swallowed hard with regret. This was not good. This was exactly what she’d hoped to avoid. Kimmee had kept the secret before, but would she again?

“He is so gorgeous,” Kimmee whispered happily. “I’m so glad for you. You needed someone gorgeous in your life.”

Pellea shook her head, worried and not sure how to deal with this. “But, Kimmee, it’s not like that. You know I’m going to marry Leonardo and…”

“All the more reason you need a gorgeous man. No one said it had to be a forever man.” Her smile was impish. “Just take some happiness where you can. You deserve it.”

She looked at her maid in despair. It was all very well for her to be giving shallow comfort for activities that were clearly not in good taste. But here she was, hoisted on her own petard, as it were—taking advice that could ruin her life. But what was she going to do—beg a servant not to gossip? Might as well ask a bird not to fly.

Of course, Kimmee was more than a mere servant. In many ways, she had always been her best friend. That might make a difference. It had in the past. But not being sure was nerve-wracking. After all, this was pretty much a life-or-death situation.

She closed her eyes and said a little prayer. “Kimmee,” she began nervously.

“Don’t worry, Pel,” Kimmee said softly. She reached out and touched her mistress’s arm, her eyes warm with an abiding affection. She’d used the name she’d called Pellea when they were young playmates. “I’m just happy that…” She shrugged, but they both knew what she was talking about. “I’d never, ever tell anyone else. It’s just you and me.”

Tears filled Pellea’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Kimmee kissed Pellea’s cheek, as though on impulse and nodded. Then suddenly, as she noticed Monte coming into the doorway to the library, she was the dutiful servant once again. “Oh, miss, let me take a look at that gown.”

Monte leaned against the doorjamb, his shirt open, his hair mussed, looking for all the world like an incredibly handsome buccaneer.

“Hey, Kimmee,” he said.

“Hello, sir.” She waved, then had second thoughts and curtsied. As she rose from her deep bow, Pellea was behind her and Kimmee risked an A-OK wink to show him plans were afoot and all was going swimmingly. “I hope things are going well with you,” she added politely.

“Absolutely,” he told her. “I’ve just had a nice little meal and I’m feeling pretty chipper.”

She laughed and turned back to her work, completed it quickly, and turned to go.

“Well, miss, I just wanted to check on the gown and remind you I’ll be here to help you get into it in about an hour. Will that suit?”

“That will suit. Magda should be through by then.” She smiled at the young woman. “Thank you, Kimmee,” she said, giving her a hug as she passed. “I hope you know how much I appreciate you.”

“Of course, miss. My only wish is for your happiness. You should know that by now.”

“I do. You’re a treasure.”

The maid waved at them both. “I’ll be back in a bit. See you.”

“Goodbye, Kimmee,” Monte said, retreating into the library again.

But Pellea watched her go, deep in thought. In a few hours, she would be at the ball, dancing with Leonardo and preparing to have their engagement announced. People would applaud. Some might even cheer. A couple of serving girls would toss confetti in the air. A new phase of her life would open. She ought to be excited. Instead, she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Get over it,” she told herself roughly. She had to do what she had to do. There was no choice in the matter. But instead of a bride going to join her fiancé, she felt like a traitor going to her doom.

Was she doing the right thing? How could she know for sure?

She pressed both hands to her belly and thought of the child inside. The “right thing” was whatever was best for her baby. That, at least, was clear. Now if she could just be sure what that was, maybe she could stop feeling like a tightrope walker halfway across the rope.

And in the meantime, there was someone who seemed to take great delight in jiggling that rope she was so anxiously trying to get across.

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