Royally Unexpected 2: An Accidental Pregnancy Collection (Surprise Baby Stories)

by Lilian Monroe

  When the day is over, we head back to the villa. Cara leans her head against the back of the car seat, sighing.

  “That was exhausting, but nice.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nods. “I know no one was there to see me, but I still felt lucky. All those kids at the hospital have gone through so much, but they’re still smiling and laughing.”

  “Because of you,” I grin.

  “What? No.” She shakes her head. “They were so brave.”

  “They loved you.”

  “They were excited to meet their future King.”

  “And Queen.” The word slips out. I clear my throat to cover it up, looking away from Cara.

  She’s not the future Queen. No one knows about our supposed upcoming engagement, and no one was looking at her as my bride.

  But she was there, and she was loved.

  I never saw my mother act like Cara did, or be received as openly as Cara was. I never saw kids flock to her, and photographers snap pictures of her.

  My mother was cold. She cheated on my father and then she left. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I guess, in a way, I always assumed that becoming King would be easier if I did it on my own. I’d protect myself from going through the heartbreak that my father went through.

  Cara’s different, though. She would make a great queen.

  But it’s. Not. Real. How many times do I have to remind myself of that?

  I stare at the island passing us by as our driver winds through the lush countryside. We drive over rolling hills, and the true sense of responsibility starts to weight on me. This is my kingdom.

  Then, Cara’s hand slips into mine. I turn to meet her gaze, and a soft smile stares back at me. Her eyes speak volumes, even though we don’t say a word.

  She’s here beside me, and that’s real enough for now.

  The car comes to a stop and the driver opens my door.

  “Your Highness,” he nods, helping me out of the vehicle. “Do you need anything else? I’ve had the staff prepare dinner for you. The chef and maid are still here for your dinner service, but I’ve told them you won’t be needing them afterward.”

  “Thank you. We’ll be fine.”

  Cara appears at my side, not having waited for the driver to open her door. She smiles at him before slipping her arm around my waist to help me into the villa.

  14

  Cara

  The lines on Theo’s face betray how much his shoulder hurts him. As he sinks down onto the plush sofa in the villa’s living room, I watch him dig around his pocket for his bottle of painkillers.

  I hate seeing him like this, and it surprises me just how much I care.

  Sitting down next to him, I lay my hand on his thigh as we watch the chef and the rest of the staff prepare our dinner. Theo lets out a long breath. He closes his eyes, and within moments, he’s asleep.

  My heart squeezes.

  Of course I care about him—we’ve been friends our whole lives. Even when I was with Luca, Theo meant a lot to me.

  But it’s like he said, something shifted between us on that sailboat. Things changed when we kissed, whether I want to admit it or not. Today, seeing him acting like the King of Argyle, I saw another side of him.

  He’s not just the strait-laced Prince who does his duty. It runs deeper than just doing what he’s supposed to do. It’s his passion. His calling. He’s dedicated and caring, and he’ll be a great king.

  Maybe, just maybe, there’s room in that story for me.

  But is that what I want, or am I just being blinded by the luxury of the royal life?

  As we wait for our dinner to be prepared, I drift off to a place between wakefulness and sleep. My mind runs away with all the possibilities that could be. If we didn’t have the weight of the past between us. If I hadn’t been promised to his brother. If he wasn’t going to be King.

  A future with Theo would be bright. I liked seeing him interact with his subjects today. He had a glow in his eye, and he made sure to give every single person his full attention. It made us incredibly late for every stop on the schedule—and exhausted him in the process—but it showed me the kind of King he’s going to be.

  He’s not a slave to his responsibilities—he embraces them. I used to think Theo was a bit boring, and I assumed it was because he knew he would be King. I never realized that ‘boring’ for me was fulfilling for him.

  Once we tell our parents that we’re not going through with the engagement, all this will be left behind. I’m sure my mother will make sure that I leave Argyle, then. I’ll have ruined my chances with not only one, but two royal princes of Argyle.

  That’s not what bothers me, though. Pain pierces my chest when I think of someone else being beside him after I leave. Will another woman take my place after this fake engagement is over?

  Theo rustles beside me, blinking his eyes open. “What time is it?”

  “You’ve been asleep for about three minutes.”

  He chuckles, rubbing his face with his hand. “Felt like hours.”

  “I think the food’s almost ready.”

  I help the Prince to his feet, and then enjoy a quiet meal with him. I’ve noticed that since we’ve been at this villa, we’ve shared more silence than we did before. Even on the sailboat, when we were quiet, there was underlying tension.

  Now, it’s just peaceful.

  When dinner is over, I can tell that Theo’s tired. He dismisses the staff and then trudges up to the ensuite bathroom. We brush our teeth, and then I hover at the doorway, unsure whether or not he wants me to come into the bedroom with him.

  Last night, we slept in the same bed, but then again, we’d just had sex. Today, there hasn’t been any of that.

  Maybe Theo wants his privacy?

  But after he pulls off his socks, he glances at me. “What are you doing standing in the doorway? Get over here.”

  “I didn’t know if you’d want to sleep alone tonight. You look tired.”

  “Being with you is better than being alone.” His eyes shine when he says the words. Simple words, but with rich meaning.

  My heart thumps. It’s like it’s knocking against my bones, asking me to listen. Listen to the pulse thudding in my veins. Listen to the fickle, fragile organ in my chest as it tells me to let myself fall for Theo.

  With a lump in my throat and my pulse quickening, I strip down to my underwear and slip under the covers. Theo groans as his head hits the pillow, and then extends his uninjured arm toward me.

  “Get in here,” he groans, his eyelids already heavy. “This is your house.”

  I snuggle into the Prince’s chest, letting out a sigh. My house. My home. The one place where I feel safe and welcome.

  Theo’s arms.

  The next morning, Theo is already awake when I get up. I find him in the kitchen, hanging up the phone. He flashes a smile before handing a steaming mug to me.

  “Change of plans today.”

  “Oh?” I sip the hot coffee. He put lots of cream and sugar in it, just the way I like it.

  “We’re going to Wreck Island.”

  “I thought we were supposed to stay here for three days and then go to Zander?”

  “That’s why it’s called a change of plans.”

  “Ha-ha,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. I can’t hide my smile, though, and Theo lays a kiss on my temple. I turn to wrap my arms around his waist, angling my face up to his. “Didn’t know you were the spontaneous type.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t underestimate me.”

  When his lips touch mine, a tendril of heat flames to life in my core. He never fails to make me feel alive. Womanly. Desired.

  Seeing the look in my eye, Theo grins. He intertwines his fingers with mine and leads me to the sofa.

  “Sit.”

  Once again, I’m powerless to his commands. I sit down, my eyes glued to Theo’s face. A wicked flash crosses his eyes as his brows arch.

  “Time for breakfast,” he grins. With on
e hand, he tugs at my panties. I help him get them off, then watch the Prince toss the scrap of fabric over his shoulder.

  Giggling, I shimmy my hips down to the edge of the sofa and reach for the waistband of his boxers. Pushing my hand away, though, Theo shakes his head.

  “Not this morning.”

  “Why?” I whine, reaching for him.

  “Because I’m your future King, and I said so.” He kneels on the floor in front of me, pushing my legs wide. For once, I don’t mind him pulling the King card. Propping his uninjured arm against my thigh, the Prince drops his head between my legs.

  I gasp, closing my eyes. Heat explodes through my core, spreading heat throughout my body. I squeeze my legs against him and then stop when I feel him wince.

  “Shoulder,” he says, his lips glistening with my wetness.

  “Sorry,” I whisper.

  Without answer, the Prince drops his lips to me again.

  Sparks flame to life inside me. Desire and lust swirl in my center, coaxed out by the Prince’s touch. By his tongue. By his lips. By the fact that he seems to be enjoying this almost as much as I am.

  I tangle my fingers into his thick hair, tugging him into me. He grunts, lapping up my honey and shifting his hand to touch me. When he slips his fingers inside me, I moan.

  Whatever is going on between the Prince and me, I’m powerless to resist. I can tell myself that I shouldn’t do this. That it’s wrong. That I’m leaving as soon as it’s over.

  But I’m lying to myself.

  How can I leave? How can I turn my back on Theo? How can I deny myself the one thing that has brought me joy in over three years? I feel like myself for the first time since as long as I can remember.

  Even before, when I was with Luca, it wasn’t like this. Electric. Frantic. It didn’t make my whole body feel like it was melting.

  With Luca, it was just…expected. That’s what was supposed to happen.

  With Theo, it’s more than that. It feels wrong, but oh so right. It feels like we should be holding back, but that only makes me want to give him more. Everything. Anything.

  When I come, my back arches and my hands grip his hair. He doesn’t stop until I go limp, finally lifting his gaze to meet mine. A smile stretches over his lips as he lays a soft kiss just below my belly button.

  “There. Good morning, beautiful.”

  I mumble something unintelligible.

  The Prince chuckles, reaching his hand down to his crotch. His bulge is unmistakable, but instead of letting me reach for it, he nods to the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”

  For the next couple of hours, Theo is painfully out of reach. As soon as we finish our breakfast, the staff arrives at the villa to clean up after us. We get dressed and head to the waiting car, and are whisked back to the sea plane pier.

  On the drive there, my fingers go on an exploratory mission over Theo’s body. He grunts in warning, catching my hand and bringing it to his lips.

  “Not here.”

  “Where?” I ask, frustrated. The privacy screen is up between us and the driver. We have at least ten minutes before we get to the pier. Ten minutes is long enough. I want to make him feel as good as he made me feel this morning. Maybe, selfishly, I want him to touch me again. His hands make me feel alive. His touch is life-giving. His kiss is magic.

  He doesn’t answer. He just tangles his fingers in mine and smiles, waiting for the car to bring us to the plane.

  Even when we’re in the air and I’m marveling at the water below us, I can still feel a whisper of heat coursing through my veins. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Theo’s gaze. It’s full of heat and wanting, and it only makes my desire for him grow.

  Still, though, he keeps his hands to himself.

  This morning was just a tease.

  When we land, Theo has a gleam in his eye. “This way,” he says.

  “Where are we? What are we doing? How long will we be here? Should I have brought my bag?”

  “Relax, Cara.”

  He threads his fingers through mine and leads me down the pier toward the shore. From there, he waves away the car that waits for us and nods toward the town. “We’ll walk,” he says.

  A bodyguard trails behind us, but Theo doesn’t seem too bothered about being exposed.

  Narrow, colorful streets greet us. People stop us every few feet to take pictures and shake Theo’s hand. He keeps me close, introducing me to everyone that we meet.

  It feels like we’re together. I suppose in a way, we are. But it feels like we’re really together. Like we’ll be together even after this trip is over.

  “This way,” Theo says when there’s a break in the selfies and baby-kissing that seems to happen anytime he’s in public.

  He leads me down a narrow alleyway with the bodyguard behind us. From there, we twist and turn through the streets and finally end up at a nondescript door. There’s no sign to tell me where we are, and no discerning features on the door or building. It’s just a brown door on a colorful concrete building next to lots of other brown doors on colorful concrete buildings.

  Theo smiles at me. “You ready?”

  “I guess. It would help if I knew what I was getting ready for.”

  The Prince just laughs, pushes the door open, and we step through.

  15

  Theo

  Being part of the royal family means lots of charitable work. Most of my life has been spent giving—time, money, attention.

  It never felt real, though. Even though we say we’re giving, and we have countless photo opportunities and events that promote our family, it always feels like a way to gain popularity. Charitable work, for the royal family of Argyle, isn’t an actual genuine way to give back. It’s an exchange. We give to charity, and we take the boost in public opinion.

  Walking into this music studio is genuine. Changing my plans so Cara can meet one of Argyle’s best musicians is real. That’s giving. Something that I’m doing only to make her happy, and nothing else.

  The look on Cara’s face when she sees the gold records on the wall is priceless. Her eyes widen and her full, lush lips drop open. As we walk down a short hallway toward the room beyond, Cara grabs my arm.

  “Is this what I think it is?”

  “That depends what you think it is,” I laugh.

  She digs her fingernails into my arm until I grunt in pain.

  “Sorry,” Cara says as if she hadn’t realized what she was doing. She drops her hand and steps forward to look around the room. “Is this Prudence Halloway’s studio? I heard about this place. Apparently, John Lennon was here with Yoko Ono in the seventies.”

  I point to the wall, where photos of other famous singers and musicians stare back at us. “A bunch of others, too.”

  Cara sucks in a breath, shaking her head.

  We’re in a music studio. It’s small, but you can sense the layers of music and memories that coat the place. Guitars and basses hang on the walls, and a glass-walled booth is tucked in the corner.

  From behind a beaded curtain, a woman emerges.

  Not just any woman. Argyle’s most famous and most celebrated musician. Prudence Halloway was the voice of my father’s generation. Now, her hair is a mix of grey, white, and black, twisted into long locks that perch on top of her head. Few wrinkles are etched into her smooth skin—just a few smile lines and shallow crows’ feet near her eyes. She’s laughed a lot in her life.

  Dark brown eyes crinkle as she smiles at us, spreading her arms toward Cara.

  “You must be Miss Shoal. I cheered for your father at the Olympics.”

  “You know my father?”

  Prudence laughs, shaking her head. “No. But I cheered for him.”

  “I feel like I should curtsy.” Cara glances at me.

  Prudence smiles again, and she wraps her arms around Cara in a warm hug. “Come in. Let me hear you sing.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Isn’t that why you’re here? His Highness told me you wanted to make musi
c with me. Not the phone call I was expecting yesterday.” Prudence’s whole aura is warm, and her presence is calming. Cara’s shoulders relax, and I sink into an old sofa near the wall.

  “I can’t sing,” Cara says, shaking her head.

  “I don’t believe you.” Prudence arches an eyebrow.

  Cara smiles, a blush creeping over her cheeks.

  Prudence grabs a guitar from the wall and props it on her lap, arching an eyebrow at Cara. “Let go of it all, Cara. Sing with me.”

  The old woman strums the guitar with a smile on her face, and I watch as Prudence coaxes Cara out of her shell. As soon as they start to play, I’m transported to my childhood. My father used to love this music. He’d play it in the palace at full volume, humming along to Prudence’s melodies.

  That was before my mother cheated on him. Before she left. Before he fell ill.

  For the first time in my royal career, as I watch Cara smile wide and finally sing her first note, I feel like I’ve done something good.

  I’m not here to have a photo with someone. I’m not here to kiss babies and make the citizens of Argyle think I’m a worthy Prince. I’m just here for Cara. To show her that I care about her voice, her singing. To show her that music is still alive in this kingdom, even if it doesn’t exist in her house.

  To prove to her that she doesn’t need a fancy education at an expensive school to sing. She doesn’t need permission from anyone to find her voice.

  We stay there for almost two hours. I relax on the sofa, listening to the two women harmonize. As I listen to Cara sing, I realize how much I missed that sound. She used to hum and sing and shout all the time when we were kids.

  Now, her voice is fuller. It’s rounder. It’s slightly deeper, but it’s just as beautiful as I remember.

  Most importantly, she’s laughing. Smiling. Her eyes are shining. I can see in her face how much this means to her, and it makes me feel good to bring her here.

  Not for me or my reputation. Not for the royal family.

  Simply for Cara.

  When we leave, Prudence gives Cara her personal phone number. The two women hug each other again, and we leave the old Argylian singer in her studio as we step out into the sunshine again.