Bound by the Prince's Baby

by Jessica Gilmore

  Tristano’s mouth curled disdainfully. ‘Englishmen.’

  She laughed. ‘I get worse online, but that’s always a useful guide—instant block. There’re far too many ginger fetishists out there. One comment on my hair and that’s a warning light I always heed.’

  His hand tightened on hers. ‘What on earth are you doing meeting men online?’

  ‘I’m a twenty-something living in London; there’s no other way to date.’ She tried to sound worldly and nonchalant, not letting on how soul-destroying the apps and websites were. ‘I always promised myself I’d kiss a lot of frogs before I met Mr Right. I just underestimated how un-kissable most frogs actually are.’

  ‘Do you believe in Mr Right?’ The music slowed as they reached the middle of the dancefloor and Amber tried not to tense as Tris took her into a practised hold. This was just a dance, a polite social custom, nothing more, but she could feel every imprint of his fingers burning through the silk of her dress, the places where his body touched hers igniting with a sweet, low heat.

  ‘I believe in soulmates. My parents found each other despite leading very different lives and they were perfect together. So yes, somewhere out there is the right man for me. I just need to find him.’

  Warmth flooded her cheeks as she spoke. The champagne and the candlelit ballroom must have loosened her tongue. ‘What about you?’ she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. ‘Do you believe there’s someone out there for you?’

  Tristano didn’t answer for a long time and when he did he sounded resigned. ‘I don’t believe in true love, no, although seeing Laurent so happy could make a man change his mind, tonight at least.’ There was something meaningful in the way he said the last words and Amber’s whole body flamed to match her cheeks, her stomach tumbling with heady excitement. She swallowed, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, aware of his gaze fastened on her mouth before he continued. ‘But Laurent is lucky. Not every prince can follow his heart. It’s easier to accept that if you never try.’

  ‘Never try what?’

  ‘Love. The most a man like me can hope for is mutual liking and respect.’

  Mutual liking and respect. That was the fate she had been intended for, and yes, she wanted both of those in any future partner, but as part of a much larger whole, a whole that included love and desire.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, emboldened by the almost reverential yet possessive way he held her and the intensity in his eyes. ‘Why settle?’

  ‘It’s complicated.’ He smiled then and Amber’s breath caught in her throat. The smile wiped away his rather austere, remote expression, making his good looks more boy next door rather than unobtainable gorgeous. ‘I’m sorry, that’s even more clichéd than the best man dancing with the bridesmaid, but it’s true. To explain it I would need to bore you with one thousand years of Elsornian constitution and laws. To be honest, I’d really like to forget about it all for one evening. To just be me, Tris, lucky enough to be dancing with a beautiful woman at a beautiful occasion. You must think I’m a little mad.’ His smile turned rueful and it tugged at Amber’s heart.

  ‘Not at all. I know something about expectation and tradition and wanting to just be yourself,’ she confessed. For one moment, struck by the relief—and the loneliness—in his dark grey eyes, she thought about going further, thought about telling him who she was, how she maybe understood how he felt more than anyone else in the world, but the sense of self-preservation that had kept her happy and safe for the last eight years kicked in. ‘So how about for tonight you forget about it? Be whoever you want to be. Who would you be if you were just Tris and not Crown Prince Tristano?’

  ‘No one has ever asked me that before.’ He looked so adorably confused for a moment that she had a crazy impulse to touch his cheek, to trace the sharp line of it round to his solemn, finely cut mouth. ‘I’m a qualified lawyer...’

  ‘By choice?’

  ‘Not exactly; it made sense to study law as it helps me do my job. But, to be honest, constitutional and business law can be a little dry.’

  ‘So not a lawyer, something not office based, I guess? Gardener, chef, pirate, actor, survivalist, athlete?’

  ‘They all sound more fun than Privy Council meetings. I like looking at the stars. Maybe I’d be an astronomer?’

  ‘Or an astronaut, living on the space station?’

  ‘I’ll imagine I’m there when the Privy Council meetings get too much. How about you? Are you living your dreams?’

  Amber couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to Tris; and not just small talk either, but intimate and honest conversation. If only her teen self could hear them confiding in each other, just as she’d dreamed they would, all those years ago. ‘In a way. I always wanted to go to university—my dad was an academic and he instilled this huge love of history and learning in me—but, for various reasons, I went straight to work.’ Reasons that included not finishing high school, mostly because of the man holding her close and listening to every word as if she was the most interesting person he had ever met.

  It was strange to think that in another universe they might be attending this wedding as husband and wife. How would her life have turned out if she had gone along with her grandmother’s plans, if the betrothal had been real and followed through? Would they have danced and talked or sat in silence, with nothing to say? It was easy, nestled in his arms, desire thrumming through her in time with the music, to imagine the former, but common sense told her that the latter would have been the more likely outcome. She had been too young, too unformed to marry anyone, even if she had been in love and loved, not harbouring a one-sided crush. A crush that had never quite gone away judging by the butterflies dancing away inside her, and the way her breath caught with every one of his rare, sweet smiles. ‘I would still like to take my degree one day. But I love my job. It’s different every day, always a new adventure, new things to learn, new people to meet.’

  ‘You are very lucky,’ he said softly, but Amber shook her head.

  ‘I made my own luck,’ she told him.

  ‘Then you are beautiful and brave.’ Sincerity rang in his voice, smouldered in his eyes and as the music played on and his grip tightened it was too easy for Amber to believe him, for tonight at least.

  * * *

  She had told herself that one dance couldn’t hurt, had promised herself that she wouldn’t have any more champagne, not when it loosened her tongue and made her forget who she was and who she was with. But somehow one dance turned into two and then two more, and at some point, warm from the exertion, and from Tristano’s proximity, she agreed when he suggested that he collect an iced bottle of champagne and two glasses and escort her out onto the terrace. It was a crisp, cold February night, the snow still heavy on the distant mountains, the sea air sharp even on the south Mediterranean coast, and Tristano slid out of his jacket to drape it around her shoulders. Amber smiled her thanks. ‘How gallant.’

  ‘Not at all, but if you’re too cold we can go in,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, no. Not when the stars are so beautiful.’ What was she doing spending time in a secluded corner with Tris? Playing with fire, that was absolutely certain, because she hadn’t misunderstood the heat in his gaze, the way he touched her, held her, as if they were the only people in the entire castle.

  It was like all her teenage daydreams come to life, the way he had finally noticed her, seen her, wanted her... To the lonely teenager still inside her, his attention was more intoxicating than the moonlight and champagne combined. Only the reality was better than her daydreams. This older, more mature Tris had a sense of humour she had never suspected, a humanity that drew her to him.

  Tris guided her to a corner of the terrace and set the bottle onto a nearby table, opening it and filling a glass before handing it to her. Amber sipped the tart fizzy liquid more quickly than she intended, suddenly shy at being alone with him, even th
ough she could hear the music playing and the babble of voices in the ballroom just a few steps away. ‘I’ve never seen so many stars all at once,’ she said, taking another sip and realising her glass was almost empty. She held it out and, after an enquiring raised brow, Tris refilled it. ‘I live in London so obviously with all the pollution the sky is never so clear, the stars are faint, but even in the countryside it never looks like this. It’s like the sky is filled with crystals, each more beautiful than the last.’

  Tristano was so close to her she could feel his breath. ‘There’s Orion.’ He pointed upwards. ‘Can you see his belt, and there’s his bow, just there. No telescope needed on a night like tonight.’

  ‘Yes...’ She barely breathed the word, the heat of him burning into her, despite his thin shirt in the winter air and the thickness of the jacket she wore. ‘I see.’

  ‘And there...’ he took her hand and moved it, so it pointed to a different spot ‘...those are the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters, daughters of Atlas.’

  ‘Atlas? He holds the earth on his shoulders, right? Do you think he looks up at his daughters at night?’

  ‘Probably.’ She could feel his smile in the way he shifted, in the tenor of his voice.

  ‘Who else can we see?’

  ‘The twins, Castor and Pollux, just there. Twin sons of Leda and brothers of Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world, or so they said. There are some who say she was a redhead.’

  She turned to face him, hand on hip mock indignantly. ‘I thought I warned you about redhead comments.’

  ‘Ah, but I didn’t realise that I was susceptible until tonight.’

  * * *

  As soon as he said the words, Tris wanted to retract them, but how could he when he was standing so close to Amber he could feel every shift and movement, could smell the rich scent of her perfume, when his vision was transfixed by the rich red of her hair?

  ‘Very smooth,’ she said, but she was smiling as she spoke.

  ‘Thank you. Like I said, I’m a little unpractised at this.’

  ‘This?’

  ‘Talking to beautiful women. Flirting.’

  ‘Flirting? Is that what we are doing?’

  ‘I hope so.’ Tris wasn’t sure what had got into him. He never forgot who he was, what he represented, his responsibilities and ties. Never allowed himself as much as a moment off, because if he did then how could he carry on shouldering the duty and the burden, the traditions and all that came with them? No, better to stay on the path he had been put on before he was even born and never look to the left or right.

  Only tonight he had allowed himself to glance to the side. Tris didn’t know what had caused his uncharacteristic sidestep. Was it seeing Laurent follow his heart, somehow balancing his own royal commitments with marriage to the woman he chose? Showing Tris how his life and the traditions that bound it were as archaic and pointless as he had always secretly thought they were, though so deep down he had never articulated it to himself.

  But right now he actually had a choice, even if it was a temporary one-night deal. He could let the moonlight and the champagne, and the undeniable attraction lead him wherever Amber was willing to go. Or he could keep his life simple and turn back to the straight, unyielding path he trod, pick up his burden and march on, letting the last couple of hours fade away, putting them down to a temporary enchantment.

  Did he always have to do the right thing? Wasn’t even the Crown Prince allowed a night off? Just once?

  For one long second he wavered, and then he was overwhelmed by the moment. By the cold air whistling through his thin shirt, the slender-stemmed glass in his hand, the tart champagne lingering on every taste bud, the tang at the back of his throat, the scent of winter flowers mingling with the rich scent of the woman standing before him. By her hair, long and thick, falling in waves, a deep auburn, set off by the silvery blue of her dress and the cream of her skin. By the softness of her breath and the music in her voice, the tilt of her smile and her long, long lashes, lashes half lowered as she looked up at him.

  And then he could think no more. Instinct took over, the man pushing the Prince aside for the first time he could remember as he curled his hand lightly around Amber’s waist and tilted her pointed chin up so that he could look her full in the face, looking for agreement, for consent, for desire.

  Her mouth curved in invitation, her eyelids fluttered and she took an unmistakable step closer until their bodies were touching.

  ‘What do you think? Have I got it wrong, or are we flirting?’ He barely managed the words, the light touch of her body flaming through him.

  ‘I think that I hope so too,’ she said and with those soft words he was lost. There was no tentativeness in the kiss, no hesitancy as he pulled her to him and nothing but enthusiasm as Amber kissed him back, one of her hands sliding to fist the material at the small of his back, the other to his nape as she rose to meet him. The kiss went from nought to sixty in record time, the first touch igniting a fire and desire almost completely foreign to Tris, who had kept any previous romances as businesslike and emotion-free as he could without making the encounter an actual business transaction. Feelings were too messy for a man who wasn’t free to feel. But tonight he was all feeling, every nerve alight with want, consumed by the feel, by the taste of her.

  Some dim part of him was still aware of where they were, that anyone could round the corner and see them, and there was enough of the Prince in him still—and enough of the possessive lover even after such a short time—to rebel at the thought of something so intimate being witnessed. ‘Come with me?’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘Inside.’

  She pulled back to look up at him. ‘Back to the reception?’ He couldn’t tell if she was affronted or relieved by the idea.

  ‘If you’d like. Or we could go to the suite I am staying in.’

  Something he couldn’t identify flickered briefly in her eyes, so swiftly he might have imagined it, before she took his hand.

  ‘I vote for the suite,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘I KNOW ALEX thinks they’re worth pursuing, but seriously, is any account worth this much hassle? Amber, are you even listening to me?’

  Amber blinked and tried to concentrate as Harriet paced up and down in front of her desk, but waves of tiredness rolled over her and her head was pounding. Straightening, she stretched, closing her eyes as she did so. What was wrong with her? She’d been feeling exhausted for days. At first she had put it down to the shock of seeing Tris again, but several weeks later she still felt weak, shaky and ridiculously tearful.

  ‘Amber, are you all right?’ Harriet looked at her friend with some concern. ‘You are awfully pale.’

  ‘I’ve been feeling a little peaky,’ confessed Amber. ‘I think I’ve picked up some kind of virus, and I just can’t seem to shake it.’

  Harriet perched on the edge of Amber’s desk and lightly touched her forehead, her hand cool and soothing. Amber leaned against it gratefully. ‘It’s been a while now, hasn’t it?’

  Amber nodded. ‘Maybe I should go and see a doctor.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ said Harriet. ‘How long exactly have you been feeling like this?’

  Amber didn’t have to think too hard; she knew exactly when she’d begun to feel ill, as soon as the guilt had hit. ‘Since the wedding, I think.’

  ‘The wedding?’ Harriet raised her eyebrows. ‘Since you and the luscious Prince disappeared off for the evening, you mean?’

  Amber’s cheeks heated. She had said very little to her friends about that night and they hadn’t pressed for any details. The unwritten rule of their friendship was that they never ever pried. All four of them had come into this friendship and business partnership with secrets. Over the last year many of those secrets had been excavated, but Amber’s were still intact, including her tryst with Tris.
Her friends were all so happy, so in love with men who adored them, she had been ashamed to admit she’d been swept off her feet by the best man at a wedding, only to wake up with nothing more than a note, no matter how beautifully composed. She didn’t want to be the single cliché in their group.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’ Harriet asked, then frowned. ‘No, it’s not a question; you haven’t been yourself for weeks. I am going to make us both a cup of tea and then I am going to listen, just like you have listened to me and to Alex and Emilia when we needed you.’

  ‘I didn’t mind,’ Amber protested. ‘And really, there’s nothing to discuss.’

  Harriet crossed her arms and did her best to look fierce. ‘No arguing. Leave that report and come through to the kitchen.’

  Amber opened her mouth, then closed it again. Harriet was usually the easy-going one out of the four of them, but once she was set on something there was no swaying her. She pushed back her chair, closed her laptop lid and followed Harriet into the back of the Chelsea townhouse which was both their head office and their home.

  Alex had inherited the Georgian terrace house a couple of years before and with her legacy came the opportunity to make the business they had planned a reality. Their skills in PR, events and administration were the perfect combination for an agency offering both temps and consultancy to private and corporate clients and a year after opening their business was booming.

  There were times when Amber still couldn’t believe this gorgeous space was theirs. They had decided to use most of the ground floor as both office and reception; wooden floorboards shone with a warm golden glow and the original tiled fireplaces had been renovated to shining glory. Two comfortable-looking sofas sat opposite each other at the front of the room, inviting spaces for potential clients or employees to relax in, the receptionist’s desk on the wall behind. Their own desks, an eclectic mixture of vintage and modern classic, faced the reception area in two rows, paperwork neatly filed in the shelves built into the alcoves by the back fireplace. Flowers and plants softened the space, a warm floral print on the blinds and curtains, the same theme picked up in the pictures hanging on the walls.