His Pregnant Christmas Princess

by Leah Ashton

  After a few weeks of furious media attention things had finally started to calm down for Ana. This was the first Sunday dinner she’d attended since her return, after previous attempts to leave her own home—a luxury villa, owned by the palace for centuries and located right on the water in the city of Vela Ada—had been thwarted by swarms of paparazzi.

  But day by day people had lost interest in the story, especially as both Ana and Petar had declined to speak directly to the media. Ana and Petar had issued only a press release that had been scant in detail—it had simply announced the conclusion of their relationship, and said they hoped to remain friends.

  Ana hadn’t been keen on the ‘friends’ bit, as she was now convinced Petar had only ever wanted her for her title, but the palace communications secretary had been insistent.

  Privately, Ana believed Petar had agreed to the press release only because he was convinced Ana would ‘come to her senses.’ He’d used that phrase many times, as if Ana were some rebellious teenager going through a phase rather than a woman who was finally taking control of her life. He insisted on phoning her regularly, for one-sided conversations—his side—but beyond that they had zero relationship.

  This suited Ana just fine. Despite her mother’s disappointment—it had only softened marginally since her wedding day, and things were still tense between them—Ana knew she’d done the right thing.

  So today, as she’d been frying the knotted pastries she now held listlessly in her fingers, she’d been feeling rather good. She’d been feeling normal. As if she’d finally begun to work out this whole princess thing and realised she could retain herself in this new world of hers. It was up to her how she lived this life she’d never expected.

  And so she’d made hrstule, for the first time since she’d become a princess, and actually rather enjoyed cleaning up the oil that always splashed everywhere when they were shallow fried because it had all felt so normal.

  Except for looking at the million-dollar views from the fancy kitchen she’d barely used in the past twelve months.

  But yeah. She had been being Ana Tomasich again, and it had felt really good.

  But now, with those same hrstule in her hands, she didn’t feel good at all.

  She felt terrified. ‘Need a hand, bebo?’ her grandmother called out from the dining room.

  ‘No, no!’ Ana managed with a light tone. ‘Just daydreaming. Won’t be a moment.’

  The conversation continued in the dining room as Ana swiftly piled up the pastries and dusted them with icing sugar.

  She tried to do the maths in her head. Tried to remember the latest her period had ever been. Tried to work out a way that there could be anything but the most obvious conclusion.

  But she came up with nothing.

  She was over a week late.

  There was only one thing she could do.

  Take a pregnancy test.

  Ana strode into the dining room with a smile but couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. No one noticed—they all carried on with their happy conversations, completely oblivious.

  Which was a relief. Ana needed time to process this. To know for sure. To gather her thoughts...or something.

  Right now it felt as if her thoughts were riding a rollercoaster in her brain, lurching in loops and vertical drops that matched the sinking sensation in her stomach.

  When she was back in her seat, her dida offered to top up her wine.

  Ana declined with a perfect smile and then tried to remember if she’d drunk more than this half glass of wine in the past month? She didn’t think so... She wasn’t a big drinker, and certainly not when she was home alone. The last time she’d drunk wine had been...with Rhys.

  As her wayward thoughts had taken her so many times in the past weeks, instantly she was back in Castelrotto, sharing kisses that tasted like Chianti, with the small of her back pressed against the hard edge of the kitchen bench and her breasts flattened against the hardness of Rhys.

  ‘You okay, Ana?’ her mother asked. ‘You look flushed.’

  ‘No,’ Ana replied honestly. ‘I feel a bit off. Is it okay if I head home?’

  Five minutes later she sat in the back of the palace car, trying to work out how on earth a princess bought a pregnancy test without anybody knowing.

  * * *

  It took some effort, but Ana managed it.

  The palace staff were absolutely discreet, but the issue was Ana didn’t just not want the public to know, she wanted no one to know. Not her family. Not the royal family.

  Not yet.

  So she wasn’t going to call on the palace physician.

  By her own choice, Ana didn’t have a personal maid—let alone a full suite of staff like at the palace. Ana did have a housekeeper for a few hours each day, though, and that was how Marta became the only person in the kingdom to know Princess Ana’s greatest secret.

  Marta had a daughter of a similar age to Ana, so Marta purchased the test and then—just in case someone realised who Marta worked for—‘dropped it off’ at her daughter’s place, before arriving at Ana’s villa the following day for work with the concealed test.

  By now it was more than twenty-four hours since Ana’s epiphany, and she felt sure every muscle in her body was tense with anticipation.

  So she tore open the test and literally ran for the bathroom.

  She needed to know.

  Now.

  And a few minutes later, she did.

  She left the test on the marble sink in her palatial bathroom and walked out on wobbly legs. All the tension that had consumed her had leaked out and she felt rubbery and useless.

  Marta hovered at the door, looking awkward. She was kind, and concerned, but Ana thanked her and waved her away.

  Really, it should be her mother here with her.

  It was her mother she wanted here.

  But how could she tell her mother—who had still not recovered from the scandal of Ana’s wedding, only a month ago—that she was pregnant? Pregnant by a man she barely knew?

  Ana fell onto her bed and cried.

  At some point she fell asleep, but when she woke up she had a plan.

  * * *

  The sun was setting when Rhys’s security system detected an approaching car.

  He’d been working in his office, where he had screens set up across one wall, monitoring the perimeter of his property.

  He leant back in his chair as he studied the approaching vehicle. It was a small hatchback, very nondescript. He certainly didn’t recognise it.

  He wasn’t expecting anybody, so he could only assume it was a group of lost tourists in a hire car. It had happened once before—a group of very disorientated British tourists had been relieved to have his clear directions on how to make their way safely back to town.

  Although this group would need to hurry. Flakes of snow had already begun to fall, and another heavy snowfall was expected this evening. The landscape was already cloaked in snow—it was always a white Christmas in Castelrotto—and Christmas Day was less than a week away.

  The car came to a stop at the locked iron gates at the entrance to his property. He watched as the driver lowered a window to speak into the intercom. Now he could see the car held only one passenger. A woman with long curly blonde hair.

  He pushed the button on his computer that activated a microphone.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

  He watched as the woman jumped at his voice, and then heard her laugh through the speakers.

  He knew that laugh.

  Quickly he pushed buttons on his computer to toggle to the camera located above the intercom speaker.

  Suddenly a familiar face filled the screen.

  A familiar face with inexplicable curly blonde hair and purple-framed glasses.

  ‘Rhys,’ Princess Ana said, in her gorgeous sexy a
ccent. ‘I—’

  But then she went silent. Her gaze dipped downwards.

  ‘Ana—’ he began. Although he had no idea what he’d planned to say next.

  Why was she here?

  He hadn’t expected ever to see her again.

  He’d hardly forgotten the night they’d shared—the number of times his brain replayed it had made that completely impossible—but it had been just that one night.

  It was all they’d both wanted.

  Her head jerked upwards again. She looked directly at the camera. ‘Can I come in?’ she said simply.

  He opened the gate.

  * * *

  Once again Rhys met Ana at the bottom of the steps that led into his home.

  She stepped out of the car in an outfit that looked nothing like anything he’d expect her to wear.

  Her coat was lime green, with black and white faux fur at her neck, wrists and the bottom edge of the garment. She wore skintight white jeans, and pink winter boots with yet more faux fur—pink, this time. Over her shoulder she’d slung a large patchwork handbag, and her lips were painted a vibrant shade of melon.

  She met his curious gaze.

  ‘A disguise,’ she said, by way of explanation.

  But that didn’t really explain anything.

  He asked the obvious question. ‘Why?’

  ‘Can I explain inside?’

  He nodded and waved her up the steps. Inside, she shrugged off her coat and boots, revealing a much calmer navy blue jumper.

  But Ana clearly wasn’t calm. She was jittery, barely standing still. Her gaze kept darting around the place, only rarely landing on him.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked.

  ‘Not gin this time,’ she said firmly. ‘Do you have tea?’

  A few minutes later he placed a steaming mug in front of her. She sat at his dining table, with the spectacular vista of the snow-covered Dolomite mountains revealed through the windows behind her.

  To be honest, he barely noticed the landscape nowadays. He’d lived here for years, and it was easy for the mountains to fade into the background. But with Ana sitting there, even in that crazy wig she wore for whatever reason, he did notice their beauty. Especially now at sunset, when the mountains turned orange and pink.

  It was as if when he was presented with Princess Ana’s beauty he was able to appreciate all the beauty that surrounded him.

  Ha! Rhys had to laugh at himself. That was almost poetic.

  ‘It’s a bit crazy, isn’t it?’ Ana said, misunderstanding his smile. She patted her wig with one hand. ‘I bought it for a fancy dress party when I was at university. Good thing I still had it.’ She removed the purple-rimmed glasses. ‘Plain glass lenses,’ she explained.

  ‘But why the disguise, Ana?’ Rhys prompted as he took his own seat. ‘Who are you hiding from? And why are you without palace security?’

  Ana shook her head. ‘I’m not hiding from anyone in particular,’ she said. ‘Please don’t worry. I wore the disguise to hide myself from the public. I didn’t want anyone to know where I was going.’

  ‘The royal jet and your security team did a brilliant job of keeping you hidden last time.’

  ‘They did,’ Ana conceded. ‘Except I didn’t want the palace to know this time.’

  She met Rhys’s gaze just briefly, before skittering away again.

  She took a deep breath. ‘So I put on the least princessy outfit I had, caught the ferry to Dubrovnik and then got on a commercial flight to Treviso and hired a car. My surname is relatively common, and I’m not that well-known outside of Vela Ada. My passport doesn’t include my title, so no one intervened.’ She shrugged. ‘I was hiding in plain sight.’

  Rhys had to admit her strategy had been effective. But the palace would be horrified when they discovered the security breach—a member of the royal family had apparently left the country undetected. Someone was going to be in a lot of trouble.

  And she still hadn’t answered his original question. Why?

  The obvious began to dawn on him.

  ‘You did all this to see me?’ Rhys asked.

  ‘Well...’ Ana said. ‘Yes.’

  Rhys blinked. ‘You could have called me first.’

  He didn’t know how he felt about any of this. His initial reaction when he’d recognised Ana in that hire car had definitely been positive, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about being part of some complex super-secret tryst or something—if that was what this was. And if it was, why hadn’t Ana run it past him?

  ‘I didn’t have your number,’ Ana said simply. ‘And—’

  She didn’t say anything more.

  ‘Marko has my number,’ Rhys said.

  Ana opened her mouth.

  ‘You didn’t want him to know,’ Rhys said for her.

  She nodded.

  ‘You really don’t want anyone to know we slept together?’

  ‘No!’ Ana said, her eyes widening. ‘I mean, yes—given the situation, I’ve not told anyone—but not because I’m ashamed or anything. Nothing like that.’

  ‘So you wanted to make sure the next time it happened absolutely no one knew either?’

  Ana’s eyes widened. ‘That’s not why I’m here!’ she said. ‘I didn’t come here to have sex with you!’

  Well, Rhys had to admit that was disappointing.

  But now his expression must be reflecting what he was thinking. Which was: Then why are you here?

  She sighed, then dropped her head into her hands, her tea completely forgotten.

  She started fiddling with the wig, and moments later a mound of golden hair spilled across the back of one of the unoccupied dining chairs. Her own brunette hair hung in a thick ponytail over her shoulder.

  ‘I can’t do this in that stupid disguise,’ she said.

  ‘Do what?’ Rhys said, and now he was concerned.

  He dragged his chair closer to Anna so their knees almost bumped beneath the table.

  ‘Do you need help? Is your ex harassing you? I always knew he was a—’

  Ana shook her head. ‘No...no.’

  She’d grabbed her mug again, although she didn’t drink. She just stared at it.

  ‘Ana? Please tell me what’s wrong.’

  Finally, for the first time since she’d arrived, she fully met his gaze. She held it for an age, her hazel eyes flecked with gold and green.

  Eventually, she spoke. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said. ‘You’re the father.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  RHYS PHYSICALLY RECOILED in his chair.

  But that clearly wasn’t enough, as then he stood and strode away from her, bumping into the kitchen bench in his haste to put distance between them.

  He fell into the single armchair in the lounge, his back to her. He didn’t say a word.

  Ana remained where she was.

  She gripped the mug in her hands. It was still hot—after all, Rhys had only just given it to her. But it felt like hours ago now.

  Until she’d actually said the words to reveal her pregnancy, today hadn’t felt real. Getting dressed up in this ridiculous disguise, her far-fetched plan to ‘escape’ Vela Ada that had worked so miraculously...

  Catching the ferry, then the plane—even hiring the car and realising she would be driving with snow chains for the first time in her life, that she’d be actually seeing snow up close for the first time in her life...

  And then seeing Rhys again. It had felt so good to see him. He’d felt like an anchor after she’d been lost in an ocean of shock since she’d seen the results of her pregnancy test.

  Her instinct had been to hug him. To throw herself into his arms. But his body language had welcomed none of that.

  He’d been standoffish from the moment he’d met her at the bottom of those steps. Just like last time.
She didn’t think he’d been displeased at her unexpected appearance. But he’d been wary. Now the house was completely silent.

  Rhys remained in the chair.

  Ana sat at the dining table.

  She supposed she should give him space to absorb the news and she tried to do just that, tracing patterns on the outside of the cooling tea mug for long, silent minutes.

  Outside, snow was beginning to fall steadily.

  Eventually Ana couldn’t take it any longer. She had to talk to Rhys. She needed to talk about this. She needed to know what he was thinking.

  She pushed her chair back and it scraped loudly on the floorboards in the perfectly still house.

  Rhys still didn’t move.

  Ana took a seat on the sofa adjacent to his chair. He had his head cradled in his hands.

  ‘Rhys?’ she prompted gently. ‘I know what a shock this news is.’

  He mumbled something Ana couldn’t make out.

  ‘Pardon?’ she asked.

  He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed.

  Tears?

  ‘I said, we had sex once—with a condom.’

  His tone wasn’t one of accusation, but even so Ana’s back went up.

  ‘I can assure you the baby’s yours. I haven’t had sex with anyone else in over a year.’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I’m not questioning you. It’s just...’ He swallowed. ‘My wife, Jess, desperately wanted a baby. So did I. We’d been trying for a few years, but it was difficult with me being deployed regularly. We’d even started the process for IVF. We had an egg collection booked when—’

  He ran his hands through his hair and fell back into the seat, his gaze now on the ceiling.

  ‘And now, the first time I have sex after she dies—with a condom, no less—I get you pregnant?’ He laughed without humour. ‘I just can’t believe it.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem fair,’ Ana said softly.

  First time? She’d had no idea. But then, why would she? She didn’t know Rhys North at all.