He shrugged and looked uncomfortable. If only he could blot out that last week of his life. “On a cruise. Mediterranean.”
“I see.” Oh my. She was in luck, wasn’t she? “No communication with the outside world at all, huh?”
“No.” He frowned at her. “Why? Did somebody bomb the palace?”
“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