Winter Blockbuster 2012 (41 page)

The wrinkle on Laurel’s brow cleared. “We don’t need anyone else there. As far as the world is concerned we’re married already. This time is for us alone.”

Rakin nodded.

“I feel free. I don’t need to worry about what people think.” Laurel mouth curved upward. “I loved the romance of our Vegas wedding.”

“Then we will be married on the Grand Canal.”

“We’re going back to Las Vegas?”

Rakin gave her a smug smile. “I thought you might enjoy the real thing this time—a wedding in Venice.”

She threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Rakin.” Then she sniffed and laughed. “We’re going to come back here every summer.”

“Whatever you want.” Rakin grinned, ready to agree to anything.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” His grin widened.

“You don’t look very serious.”

“I’m happy.”

That got him another—more passionate—kiss. And for a few moments there was silence. When it was over, she said, “I want our child, our children—”

Rakin’s eyes blazed. “Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement. I do not want only one child.”

“Yes!” Laurel knew what was bothering him. He had been an only child. “I want our child to have siblings. And every summer we’ll come back here to the beach house. My brothers and sisters and their wives and husbands and children will be welcome, too.” As her father had known they would be when he had left her Captain’s Watch.

“That will keep you close to your family. But it’s not like you’ll be separate from them forever. We can jet over to visit them any time you like. And you’ll still have your public relations work.”

At that she flung her arms back around his neck. She’d half-expected him to demand that she give her work up. Relief filled her that it was a battle she didn’t have to fight. “I love what I do.”

“I know that.”

“And as my wife you will have even more opportunities to gain connections. You may, in time, want to talk to your siblings about outsourcing the PR. That way you could set up your own consultancy, still work for The Kincaid Group, but you’d be able to source other clients as well.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“I know,” he said smugly. “I’m simply full of good ideas.”

Laurel wrinkled her nose at him and laughed.

“I love it when you laugh. You hold nothing back. And you become more beautiful than ever.”

“How can I help it? You make me happy.”

Relief filled him. He was not his father. His wife would not become a miserable shadow of herself. She loved him… and he loved her.

Their children, too, would be loved.

EPILOGUE

T
HE
doorbell sounded.

Elizabeth Kincaid glanced around at the family who’d already gathered in the salon for pre-dinner drinks. “That should be Laurel and Rakin.”

“I’ll let them in.” Pamela disappeared to open the front door.

When Laurel appeared in the doorway to the salon with her lean, dark husband behind her, Elizabeth immediately saw that her eldest daughter was not the sad character who had visited only a few days ago—she glowed. Rakin’s arm was settled possessively around her waist, his lean length complementing her fiery beauty.

After they’d all exchanged hugs and greetings, Laurel announced from the circle of her husband’s arms. “We’ve got news for you all.”

Silence fell over the room.

“We’re expecting a baby!”

Excitement erupted. Kara squealed. Lily, blossoming from her own pregnancy, was the first to leap to her feet and give Laurel a hug. Susannah wiped away the tears of joy that had sprung to her eyes.

And Brooke rushed to give Laurel a kiss. “RJ and I aren’t having a baby just yet. But this is almost as exciting as being pregnant myself.”

Laurel hugged her sister-in-law. “Don’t take too long—it will be fun for our children to have cousins the same age.”

Elizabeth swallowed as Brooke gazed across at RJ. “I don’t think it will be long.”

Everyone started talking at once.

His arm around Kara, Eli edged them both forward to stand beside Laurel. Then he said, “I take it this means I’m forgiven?”

Laurel took his hand in hers, and Elizabeth’s heart swelled at the sight of the gratitude on her eldest daughter’s face. “If it hadn’t been for you, Rakin would probably never have proposed, so I owe you a thank-you from the bottom of my heart.”

Kara retorted, “There’s a certain déjà vu feeling about this. I seem to remember my gratitude to you for jilting Eli.”

Her middle daughter’s forthrightness made Elizabeth gasp. But everyone else laughed. Soon Elizabeth was laughing, too. It brightened her face and she caught a tender look from Cutter.

He was her rock. She had a second chance at happiness and love. The future was already brighter than it had been for a long time. If only the questions surrounding Reginald’s death could be settled, everything would be perfect.

She spared a thought for Angela Sinclair. It couldn’t be easy knowing that the police had your son under suspicion for his father’s murder. Elizabeth looked around the room at her sons. RJ was shaking hands with Rakin. Matt had pulled Flynn onto his knee and was stroking his son’s dark hair while he talked to Lily and her fiancé Daniel.

She had her family. They were safe and happy. It was Angela’s world that was about to turn upside down—

Pamela’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Ten minutes until dinner will be served. Flynn, come wash your hands.”

Crossing to the bookshelves, Elizabeth drew out a fat leather-bound family album. Baby pictures. It seemed appropriate given Laurel’s news and Lily’s pregnancy. One day, not too far away by the sounds of it, Brooke and Matt would join them, too.

Then she crossed to sit on the elegantly carved sofa beside Cutter. Placing the album on her knees, she gave Cutter a secret little smile. Then she said, “Before Pamela serves dinner, gather around—I want to show you all how beautiful Kincaid babies are.”

No one needed second urging, and within minutes she was surrounded by the family she loved.

TAMING THE
LOST PRINCE

Raye Morgan

This book is dedicated to Nick and Jenn,
and most of all to CB, the new prince in our family.

CHAPTER ONE

P
RINCE
M
AX
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.