Bound by the Prince's Baby

by Jessica Gilmore

  ‘I suppose it is.’ Tris had never really thought about it before, but she was right. ‘How can you tell?’

  She shrugged. ‘It just seems a little bit more like you, I suppose. Your rooms are lovely, but they’re a little impersonal. I could be walking through any show room in any stately home. But out here? This doesn’t look like it’s been put together out of the Palaces-R-Us catalogue. It looks like someone has curated it with love and care.’

  For a moment Tris was so taken aback he didn’t know how to respond, and Amber covered her mouth, eyes huge with embarrassment. ‘I am so sorry...’ she began but Tris interrupted her.

  ‘I moved into these rooms when I was sixteen,’ he said. ‘My uncle arranged for them to be prepared for me in what he deemed to be the most appropriate style, and I’ve never got around to changing them; there doesn’t seem to be much point. I don’t spend much time here anyway. But the terrace is different, I designed it myself and this is where I come when I need to think, to remind myself that the world is bigger than this castle and my responsibilities.’ He stopped, a little embarrassed by how much he’d given away.

  Amber nodded. ‘That makes sense. I couldn’t quite believe it when I stepped in...the difference between your rooms and the ones I’ve been given...mine are so beautiful and so individual.’

  ‘You can thank Elisabetta for that. I asked her to make them as welcoming as she could. I tried to tell her a little bit about you so that you felt at home; I hope I got it right.’

  ‘They’re perfect,’ she said softly. Amber looked up at him, confusion, doubt and something that looked a little like hope mingling in her eyes. Tris wanted to reach out and touch, to run his finger down her cheek, to bend his head to hers to taste her once again. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to run his hands through her glorious mass of hair, to slide his hands down to her waist, to touch her silky skin, as he had dreamt of every night over the last few weeks. If he did, he was almost sure that she wouldn’t push him away; he could almost taste the anticipation in the air.

  For all the awkward silences, for all the ways they danced around each other, trying to work out just how much they would need to give and take in any future relationship, for all they avoided any conversation about the night they’d spent together, barely even mentioning her pregnancy even though it was the reason she was here, attraction still hummed in the air between them. Almost visible, tangible, audible it surrounded him every time she was near. And by the way she was so careful not to touch him, the way she sometimes slid a glance his way, Tris knew she felt it, saw it, heard it too.

  Kissing Amber, reminding her of that physical attraction, reminding her of how good they were together in one way at least, would give him a shortcut to the marriage he needed. But he’d never been a man for shortcuts; he needed Amber to agree to stay because she wanted to, not because she had to. That ill-judged betrothal needed to be wiped out of history. Seducing her into a decision would be almost as bad as coercing her through a legal document she had had no say in. It almost physically hurt to step back, to keep his polite mask in place, but Tris was used to doing things the hard way.

  ‘I don’t know about you,’ he said as smoothly and unemotionally as possible, doing his best to pretend the moment that had flared up between them had never happened, ‘but I’m hungry. Let’s go in and I’ll heat up the pizzas. There is a selection of films lined up; you choose.’ Tris didn’t know if the disappointed glance she sent his way was because Amber had thought he had been about to kiss her or because he was ducking out of their agreement by giving her the choice of film but, either way, this choice was right, safe. And Tris always did the right thing, no matter the personal cost.

  CHAPTER NINE

  FEELING SLIGHTLY RIDICULOUS, Amber tiptoed along the corridor, unable to stop herself glancing over her shoulder—although whether she was checking for flesh and blood or ghostly watchers, she wasn’t sure. What she was sure of was that there was nothing quite as eerie as a seemingly deserted castle at night.

  The dimly lit, thickly carpeted corridor which led from her turret into the main part of the castle eventually gave straight onto the grand main staircase which descended majestically into the huge receiving hall at the front of the castle. But somewhere before there was a discreet door which opened into the passages and stairs the servants used to move around the castle relatively unseen. She had had a full tour the day after she’d arrived but there were so many twists, turns, rooms leading into each other, hidden doors and staircases that she wasn’t entirely sure which piece of panelling was the door she needed, and which was a secret way into a bedroom or receiving room; the castle was riddled with secret connecting doors and passages, most of them used either for smugglers or affairs. Tris was right; his ancestors were a scandalous lot.

  Pausing beside an engraved panel, Amber could see the tell-tale break in the carving that indicated a door. But was it the right door? More by luck than judgement she selected the right door first time and found herself descending the back stairs leading to the kitchen areas. She’d only had a whistle-stop tour of the palace kitchens, which were ruled over by the kind of temperamental French chef she’d thought only existed in films and who even confident, vivacious Elisabetta regarded with wary respect.

  Once down in the airy basement that housed the service apartments and rooms, Amber found she remembered the way to the kitchen easily. Pushing the heavy door a little nervously, she peeped into the simply lit room, her heart jolting with relief when she saw it was both empty and tidied up and cleaned ready for the next day. She stepped in, closing the door softly behind her, and looked around the huge room, with its stainless steel worktops, saucepans hanging from racks and range ovens. It was almost impossible to believe that next door there was an even bigger kitchen used for state occasions and this gleaming, gadget-filled professional room was used just for day-to-day catering.

  Tiptoeing over to the light switches, Amber put on the spotlights which illuminated the side benches, holding her breath in case she triggered some kind of alarm, but the only sound was that of her own wildly beating heart roaring in her ears. The night staff had an office at the other end of the basement with another small kitchen for late night orders. She should be able to use this kitchen completely undisturbed.

  Fifteen minutes later Amber had filled the worktop in front of her with a selection of eggs, flour, sugar, flavourings and a whole host of bowls, baking tins and wooden spoons. The terrifyingly technical oven nearest her was finally switched on after several false starts, and she had started to mix ingredients together for a simple sponge cake, propping her tablet in front of her and logging into her video chat, hoping that one of her friends might also be finding it hard to sleep.

  Amber preferred to cream the butter and sugar by hand, the repetitive exercise giving her the brain space she needed. As she started to turn two separate substances into one she recapped the evening she’d just spent with Tris in excruciating detail. There was so much to unpick she didn’t quite know where to start. The shock of his impersonal rooms followed by the relief when she’d stepped onto the terrace and seen the beautiful outside space he’d created. The moment by the telescope when he’d looked at her in exactly the same way he’d looked at her at the wedding, all heat and want. With that one look turning her bones molten, her body limp with need. Only for him to turn away as if it had never happened.

  She mixed harder, mind ruthlessly marching on to the disappointment flooding her when he’d left it to her to select the film as if he couldn’t share even his cultural taste with her. Choosing a three-hour Jane Austen adaptation was maybe cheap revenge, but he deserved it.

  Was it too soon to give up? He was trying, she knew that, probably as much as he was able, but she could not live the rest of her life in bland companionship, no matter how luxurious the surroundings. Her unhappiest years had been spent in the lap of luxury.

  The sugar an
d butter were creamed at last, so smooth a paste it was almost impossible to imagine that just ten minutes ago they had been separate substances. Picking up the first egg, Amber amused herself by cracking it on the side of the bowl and letting the contents slide into the bowl one-handed. She picked up the second egg and at that moment an alert from her tablet showed her Harriet was trying to call. For one moment she considered not answering, despite her earlier need to speak to her friends, unsure what to say and how much to give away. But her need for companionship was greater than her desire for secrecy and she accepted the call.

  ‘Harriet! How lovely to hear from you.’ Amber hoped her cheery smile and tone would be enough to fool her friend that all was fine. She should have known better. Harriet narrowed her eyes.

  ‘You’re baking?’ Harriet said it in the same way that she might have said You’re drinking or You’re weeping on a sofa watching a sad film. ‘What time is it there?’

  ‘Not yet midnight,’ Amber said airily, mixing in the eggs as if making a cake in a castle kitchen at midnight was a completely normal thing to do. ‘Why, what time is it where you are? Actually, where are you?’ Since Harriet had got engaged to Deangelo she spent a lot of time travelling around the world with him.

  ‘I’m in New York,’ Harriet said. ‘I’ve been catching up with the company Alex worked with at Christmas and my report will be with you all at the end of the week, but right now I’m sitting in a hotel room waiting for my fiancé to finish his business and to take me out for dinner. Amber, what’s going on? You only midnight bake when you’re stressed.’

  ‘I’m not stressed,’ protested Amber, sieving in the flour and folding it a little more vigorously than usual. Harriet didn’t reply, her silence all too effective, and Amber rolled her eyes in the direction of the tablet. ‘Okay, okay, maybe I’m a little stressed. Did I tell you that Tris put me in a freaking tower? Like I’m some helpless princess and now he’s impregnated me he’s ready to save me.’

  ‘To be fair, it’s not as if he knew you were a princess when he impregnated you,’ Harriet said, a smile twitching her mouth. ‘None of us did.’

  ‘I was talking about a metaphorical princess,’ Amber said with as much dignity as she could as the flour flew into the air under her less than tender care and coated her nose and top. ‘Dammit, look at the mess I’m making. Besides, I’m not here because I’m a princess, and I’m definitely not here to be saved. I’m here because I’m pregnant and I promised myself to give Tris a chance to show me I could be happy here. Happy with him.’

  ‘And how is that going for you? Or does the large amount of flour currently decorating your face tell me everything I need to know?’

  ‘The pregnancy? I feel surprisingly well, not so tired and I haven’t been sick once. It’s easy to forget I’m pregnant at all and then I wonder what on earth I’m doing here. I guess that will change next week; I’m flying home for the first scan. Harriet, will you be around? I really don’t want to go on my own. Part of me wonders if I’m going to get there and the doctor is going to tell me I’m crazy and there’s no baby; I’d like someone else to prove it’s real.’

  Amber paused. Despite all the problems the pregnancy was causing her, the question marks over her future, she couldn’t help but be thrilled at the thought of a baby. Her baby. Her own family for the first time in more years than she cared to remember. No, she reminded herself as she looked at Harriet. She did have a family, one born of love and respect and friendship. Their marriages would inevitably change that, especially as they would no longer live together, but they wouldn’t change those bonds. No matter what happened, the baby had three readymade aunts and godmothers ready to love him or her.

  ‘Of course I’ll be there if you want me. But Amber, shouldn’t Tris be with you?’

  Shaking her head, Amber dislodged flour, sending even more to the floor. ‘We’re still keeping the pregnancy and, more importantly, Tris’s involvement, a secret for now. To be honest, if we don’t get married, I’d really like to keep it a secret for as long as possible, until the baby is an adult at least. Growing up with that kind of interest and publicity is not ideal, to put it mildly. Nor is growing up with a meaningless title healthy either. I should know; I crossed an ocean to escape mine.’

  ‘I thought it was your grandmother you wanted to leave behind, not the title. After all, if you know it’s meaningless, then what does it matter?’

  ‘It matters because I’m here. Do you think if I was just some random bridesmaid Tris had got pregnant I’d be living in the castle being prepped for Queen? No way—they’d be paying me off quicker than you could say royal emergency.’

  ‘Do you really think that?’ Harriet shook her head, her eyes warm with understanding. ‘I think you’re there because Tris wants you there, because he wants to be part of the baby’s life and part of your life.’

  ‘Harriet, he barely speaks to me. There is no trace of the man I met at the wedding, at least barely any trace. I can’t see beneath the surface; he won’t let me in.’

  ‘Why is that, do you think?’

  Amber huffed a little as she started to prepare the ingredients for shortbread biscuits. She couldn’t just stand here and chat while her cakes cooked; she had to stay busy. Maybe pastry after this, puff or filo—something tricky which needed a lot of physical work. ‘He thinks I lied to him that night.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘No! I mean, he didn’t ask me, did he? At no point did he say, Excuse me, are you the long-lost Belravian Princess who I managed to get engaged to without once asking her if it was what she wanted?’ Amber could hear the bitterness in her voice and concentrated on beating the butter as hard as she could.

  ‘Be careful with that butter, Amber, or it will have you up for assault. Okay, he didn’t ask you and he didn’t recognise you, so why does he think you lied?’

  ‘He thinks I lied by omission.’ Amber put the bowl down and faced the screen—and her friend. ‘In some ways, I guess I did. Obviously, I knew who he was, but I had no idea he still considered himself betrothed to me. If I had, I wouldn’t have danced with him, I wouldn’t have slept with him. I wouldn’t have complicated things so badly.’

  Harriet’s nod was full of understanding. After all, she and Deangelo had had to find their way from desire towards love. ‘Amber, tell me to mind my own business, but why did you sleep with him? Knowing who he was, knowing he is the reason you left your grandmother’s house before graduating. I’m not judging,’ she added hastily as Amber picked the bowl back up.

  The heat in Amber’s face had nothing to do with the vigorous beating of butter and the newly added sugar and everything to do with embarrassment. Harriet had just said what they were all thinking, herself too, no doubt Tris as well. What had she been thinking?

  ‘At first I was terrified he would recognise me and, although there’s no way anyone could make me go back to my grandmother or force me into marriage, for a few moments I was a terrified schoolgirl again, hearing her future planned out for her with no say and no way out except to run. When I realised he had no idea who I was, I was curious I suppose, curious how my life might have turned out if I hadn’t had the strength to disappear. And—’ the heat of her face intensified ‘—the truth is, when I was a teenager I had a huge crush on him, although he looked at me as if I was nothing more exciting than a cockroach. When it became clear he was attracted to me it went to my head. I felt powerful after all those years of feeling powerless. It was more intoxicating than the champagne. He wanted me not because I was a princess and a means to a throne and a fortune, but me, Amber Blakeley, and that night it seemed like I could see into his soul.’

  She stopped, unable to believe the words that had just spilled out of her, unable to believe their truth, but when she finally got the courage to look at Harriet she didn’t see surprise or condemnation, but understanding—and confirmation—as if Harriet had suspected how
Amber felt all along. But how could she when Amber herself hadn’t known?

  ‘I came here because I thought there was a connection,’ she said quietly. ‘But I was wrong. I didn’t see into his soul. I just fancied him, that was all. I made a huge mistake, and now I don’t know what to do for the best. Apart from bake.’

  * * *

  Tris paused at the closed kitchen door, unsure whether to open it or not. When he’d received the call telling him that Amber had been in the kitchen for almost an hour he had immediately got dressed and left his apartments to come and find her. It wasn’t that he was worried she was hurt but he had noticed a curiously blank look in her eyes when she had left earlier. He had failed her. He was fully aware of that.

  Tapping lightly on the door, he waited for an answer and, when none was forthcoming, he carefully turned the handle and pushed the door open just a fraction. His immediate attention was caught by the mass of bowls, cutlery and baking paraphernalia on the worktop opposite, only for the whole scene to fade as he heard Amber speak.

  ‘I just fancied him, that was all. I made a huge mistake, and now I don’t know what to do for the best.’

  Something brittle, something in the region of his heart, twisted and cracked. She had made a mistake, of course she had. One of the things he respected about Amber was her refreshing honesty when it came to his title and position. The knowledge that she’d chosen him not because of what he was but because of who he was. But she’d chosen him for one night only, not for a lifetime, and now she realised that the night they had shared was a mistake. Carefully, silently he closed the door and took a step back.