The Lost Princes: Darius, Cassius and Monte. Raye Morgan
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She sighed. “We didn’t have any babies around while I was growing up. It was just me and Sam.”
The baby was clean and in dry diapers. David put her up against his shoulder and she cuddled in, obviously comfortable as could be and happy to be with someone who knew what he was doing. He managed a reluctant smile. It was just like riding a bicycle. Once you knew how to hold a baby, you didn’t forget.
He turned back to Ayme. “Who’s this Sam you keep talking about?”
She swallowed, realizing the answer to that question was going to be tied to very different emotions from now on.
“My…my sister, Samantha. She was Cici’s real mother.”
And that was when the horror hit her for the first time since she’d left home. Her legs turned to rubber. Closing her eyes, she sank to the couch, fighting to hold back the blackness that threatened to overtake her whenever she let herself think, even for a moment, about Samantha. It was the same for her parents. The accident had taken them, too. Her whole family.
It was all too much to bear. If she let herself really think about what had happened and about the emptiness that was waiting for her return to Dallas, the bubble she was living in would pop in an instant. She couldn’t think about it and she couldn’t tell him about it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. The pain was just too raw to manage.
Steeling herself, she forced out a quick explanation.
“Sam died in a car accident a few days ago.” Her voice was shaking but she was going to get through this. “I…I was taking care of Cici when it happened. It was all so sudden. It…”
She took in a gasping breath, steadying herself. Then she cleared her throat and went on.
“Now I’m trying to get her to where she belongs. I’m trying to find her father.” She looked up, surprised to find that she’d gone through it and was still coherent. “There. Now you know it all.”
He stared at her. Her eyes looked like dark bruises marring her pretty face. The tragedy in her voice was mirrored by her body language, the tilt of her head, the pain in her voice. He didn’t doubt for a minute that everything she’d just told him was absolutely true and it touched him in a way he hadn’t expected.
The urge was strong to put down the baby and take the woman in his arms. If anyone needed a bit of comfort, Ayme did. But he stopped himself from making that move. He knew it wouldn’t work out well. The last thing she wanted right now was compassion. The smallest hint of sympathy would very probably make her fall apart emotionally. He assumed that she didn’t want that any more than he did. At least he hoped so. He looked away and grimaced.
But—back to basics—he still didn’t understand why she’d come to him.
“Ayme, I’m not Cici’s father,” he said bluntly.
“Oh, I know. I know it’s not you.”
He shook his head, still at sea and searching for landfall. “Then why are you here?”
She shrugged. “You’re going to help me find him.” She gazed at him earnestly. “You just have to. And since you’re Ambrian…”
“I never said I was Ambrian,” he broke in quickly. He had to make that clear. As far as the rest of the world knew, he was a citizen of the Netherlands, born and bred Dutch. That was the way it had been for twenty-five years and that was the way it had to be.
“Well, you know a lot about Ambria, which not a lot of people do.”
Reluctantly, he admitted it. “True.”
Rising from the couch, she began to pace much the way he had a few minutes earlier. She was exhausted and her emotions were spent. But she had more work to do. Glancing over at David, she noticed that Cici’s downy head was tucked against his shoulder and the little eyes were closed. She was asleep. Ayme’s sigh was from the depths of her wounded soul.
“If only I’d had you along on the flight over the Atlantic,” she said.
“Don’t try to change the subject,” he said, turning to lay the baby down very carefully in her makeshift bed. “If you want my help, you’ve got to give me more. I can’t do anything unless I understand the parameters I’m dealing with.”
She nodded. He was right, of course. But what could she say to explain this crazy situation? She moved restlessly toward the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb. From there, she could see across the living room and out through the huge picture window surveying the city. The mass of city lights spread out below added a manic energy, despite the time of night.
That made her think—what if all those lights went out one night?
She nodded, realizing that the stars would take their place. And that would be a whole different dynamic. She wasn’t sure which she would prefer at the moment—manic energy or soothing starlight. But her preference didn’t mean a thing. She had to deal with what she had before her.
Throwing her head back, she began.
“Sam didn’t tell me much about Cici’s father. Actually, I hadn’t seen her for almost a year when she showed up with a baby in her arms. I had no idea…” She put a hand to her forehead as she remembered the shock of Sam’s return home. “Anyway, she didn’t tell me much, but she did tell me that Cici’s father was Ambrian. That she’d met him on a trip to London. And that she wanted nothing more in the world at that moment than to find him and show him his baby.”
Of course, there were other moments, even hours, when Sam acted as though she didn’t care at all—especially when she took off without her baby. But he didn’t have to know about that.
She turned and came back into the room, watching David tuck a blanket in around Cici. It was unusual to see such a strong, handsome man doing something like that. At least it seemed unusual to her. But who knew? Maybe she should get out more.
That sweet little baby was finally getting the sort of care she deserved. She thought of how careless Sam had seemed with Cici. Their mother had been appalled. But maybe that was because of her precarious circumstances. If she could have found Cici’s father and they could have formed a real family, maybe things would have been different.
“Now she’ll never get the chance,” she murmured softly, then caught herself and frowned. None of that. She couldn’t let herself drift off into that sort of sadness. They would never get anything done.
He’d finished with the baby and he came to stand in front of her, looking down. “But she didn’t tell you this guy’s name?”
She hesitated. “She told me a name, but…”
“Who? You’ve got to tell me, Ayme. I don’t see how I can help you if you won’t tell me.”
She turned away again and he followed her out to the picture window. “Do you ever see the stars?” she asked.
“Not much,” he said impatiently. “Will you stick to the point?”
She drew in a deep breath and looked up at him as though this was a hard thing to do.
“Do you know anything about the lost royals of Ambria?” she asked him.
Chapter Three
FOR JUST a second, David thought he’d heard Ayme wrong. Then the implications of what she’d just said crashed in on him. He could hardly breathe.
“Uh, sure,” he said, managing not to sound as choked as he felt. “I’ve heard of them, anyway. What about them?”
She shrugged and sounded apologetic. “Well, Sam claimed Cici’s father was one of them.”
“Interesting.”
He coughed. He’d heard of sightings before. Mostly, they were nothing, led nowhere. But there had been one that had panned out, and when he’d followed