The Rebel Prince. Raye MorganЧитать онлайн книгу.
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“Wait a minute. You’re a woman,” the prince said, as though that thought had just presented itself to him.
Emma Valentine felt color rushing into her cheeks and she silently begged it to stop. Here she was, formless and stodgy in her chef’s whites. No makeup, no stiletto heels. Hardly the picture of the femmes fatales he was undoubtedly used to.
“That’s a rare ability for insight you have there, Your Highness,” she snapped before she could stop herself. And then she winced. She was going to have to do better than that if she was going to keep this relationship on an even keel.
But he was ignoring her dig. Nodding, he stared at her with a speculative gleam in his golden eyes. “I’ve been looking for a woman, but you’ll do.”
Emma blanched, stiffening. “I’ll do for what?”
Amusement sparkled in the prince’s eyes. He was certainly enjoying this. And that only made her more determined to resist him.
“I’m the prince, remember? And we’re in my castle. My orders take precedence. It’s that old pesky divine rights thing….”
The Rebel Prince
Raye Morgan
MILLS & BOON
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THE BRIDES OF BELLA LUCIA
A family torn apart by secrets, reunited by marriage
When William Valentine returned from the war, as a testament to his love for his beautiful Italian wife, Lucia, he opened the first Bella Lucia restaurant in London. The future looked bright, and William had, he thought, the perfect family.
Now William is nearly ninety, and not long for this world, but he has three top London restaurants with prime spots throughout Knightsbridge and the West End. He has two sons, John and Robert, and grown-up grandchildren on both sides of the Atlantic who are poised to take this small gastronomic success story into the twenty-first century.
But when William dies, and the family fight to control the destiny of the Bella Lucia business, they discover a multitude of long-buried secrets, scandals, the threat of financial ruin and, ultimately, two great loves they hadn’t even dreamed of: the love of a lifelong partner, and the love of a family reunited….
Wanted: Outback Wife by Ally Blake #3916
To Emily Ruston—thanks for your helpful guidance and tactful editing
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
JET lag—maybe he could blame it on that.
Or maybe on the general state of simmering anger he’d been in since he’d been told life as he knew it was over and he was to submit meekly to living his brother’s life instead. That might have thrown his aim off.
Whatever.
He’d missed the shot and he’d hit the young woman by mistake. And that was when everything began to spin out of control.
Prince Sebastian wasn’t used to missing a shot—he had an arm like a rocket launcher and had once even been urged to join his country’s Olympic water-polo team. He’d never injured anyone with a shot before—except other players in the generally rough play of the game he loved. But he seemed to have the reverse Midas curse these days—everything he touched went bad.
For a fraction of a heart-stopping second, he was afraid he’d killed her.
Pacio, one of the young footmen who’d been playing the game of water polo with him, said as much, swimming over to the side of the indoor castle pool behind him.
“She looks like she’s dead. Muerta,” he added for good measure.
“She’s not dead,” Sebastian corrected sharply, though his nerves were still jumping from that momentary fear.
Vaulting out of the pool, he kicked the still-bouncing water-polo ball out of the way and crouched over her, shaking away the water that dripped from his sleek body.
“Is she breathing?” Pacio asked with interest, climbing out of the pool as well. “Wow. She went down just like a rag doll.”
Sebastian didn’t bother answering. She seemed to be unconscious. Not a good sign.
“Hello,” he tried, touching her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
There was no response.
He put two fingers to the pulse at her neck, glad to find it strong, then noted her chest move. She was breathing, but she looked so pale and vulnerable lying there in her cutoff jeans and sleeveless jersey top. He wanted to gather her up and get her off the cold floor. But he probably shouldn’t move her. Had she hit her head on the tile? Maybe she was in shock.
Snagging a large towel someone had hung on the railing, he draped it over her and bit back frustration. Why the hell wasn’t she moving? And why the hell couldn’t he remember more of his decade-old life-saving classes? It was obviously time to recruit someone who knew what he was doing.
“Go get the doctor,” he ordered as two others who’d been in