The Royal Pregnancy Test (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Christmas Princess Swap, Book 1)

by Heidi Rice

  Taking the turkey she had pulled out of the freezer the night before, she hefted it into the state-of-the-art kitchen. She was busy stuffing the bird an hour later when Leo’s deep voice rumbled down her spine and his large hands settled on her stomach.

  ‘What’s that?’ he murmured, as his face appeared over her right shoulder and he tugged her into his embrace.

  ‘A snowman,’ she said, aware of her pulse hammering too hard. ‘What does it look like?’

  He laughed. ‘I thought as much.’

  She twisted her head and smiled at him, her heart stuttering in her chest at the sight of his jaw darkened by beard scruff, his face so handsome her breath caught every time she looked at him.

  Maybe they weren’t a couple, but was it wrong to grab these moments of closeness so she could remember them when they parted?

  Sympathy pulsed in her chest as she noticed the sadness in his eyes.

  Christmas was hard for him; it was when his mother had died. But she could fix that today. No questions asked.

  She shifted out of his arms and reached into the fridge to snag the box of fresh eggs, the sliced ham and a quart of milk. ‘Here, why don’t you make us breakfast this morning while I concentrate on this?’

  ‘Breakfast, huh?’ he said, standing back and holding the produce as if he had his hands full of a couple of armed grenades.

  ‘Yes, ham and eggs...’ She frowned at his perplexed expression...as a strange thought occurred to her. ‘Leo, you do know how to cook ham and eggs, don’t you?’

  ‘Why would I know how to cook ham and eggs?’ he asked, as if she’d just asked him if he knew how to soufflé a pheasant or make sushi from scratch.

  ‘Because everyone knows how to cook breakfast,’ she replied. Unable to prevent the little jolt in her heart rate at what an endearing figure he made.

  She’d never once seen Leo out of his depth. But that air of authority had slipped—as he stood barefoot in a kitchen, wearing boxers and nothing else, with his once perfectly styled hair sticking up on one side and his jaw darkened by a week’s beard scruff, staring at the eggs and ham as if they might bite him.

  ‘I’ve never cooked anything in my life,’ he declared, as if that were perfectly normal.

  ‘Not even an egg?’ Juno asked, actually kind of shocked. She’d done all the cooking, but that was because she enjoyed it. She’d assumed he didn’t—she hadn’t realised he couldn’t.

  ‘Not even an egg,’ he said without hesitation. He put the supplies on the kitchen counter. ‘Why don’t you cook as usual and I’ll watch?’ He gripped her wrist and pulled her into his arms, his hand landing on her butt under the silk robe she’d thrown on after her shower.

  She snorted out a laugh, despite the leap of desire coursing through her sex-obsessed body. She’d become addicted to Leo, that much was obvious, but she knew a distraction technique when she saw one. ‘Nice try, Your Majesty,’ she said.

  Drawing out of his embrace, she picked up the groceries. ‘I’ve got a much better idea,’ she added. ‘Why don’t you cook while I tell you how? It’ll be my Christmas present to you, teaching you some basic cooking skills.’

  She could see he wanted to object. And it occurred to her how tough it was for Leo to admit a weakness.

  Up till now, Leo had been the expert. On everything. How to behave as a monarch, encouraging and supporting her while they were on her fake state visit. He’d even been the expert in bed, teasing out her pleasure and sending her senses soaring to heights she’d never believed possible. But now the tables were turned.

  ‘You’re not going to let this go, are you?’ he said.

  Juno’s grin widened; this was one more precious memory she would be able to keep from their time out of time here. ‘Nope.’

  He swore softly under his breath. ‘Fine, but don’t blame me if you get food poisoning,’ he added.

  She laughed as she drew out a large metal mixing bowl from the impressive array of kitchen equipment. ‘I won’t.’ She smiled at his frown and passed him an egg. ‘Now let’s break some eggs.’

  ‘I think this has been my best Christmas ever,’ Juno murmured, stifling a yawn, as she placed her bare feet in Leo’s lap and relaxed into the sofa cushions, so tired and full of food she could barely keep her eyes open.

  ‘It has been mine, too,’ he said. The glow of firelight and the twinkle of lights from the tree in the corner of the room played over the planes and angles of his face.

  Her heart expanded, the sincerity in his gaze making her chest ache with all the things she hadn’t been allowed to say, but knew now to be true.

  This was Leo with his guard down, the man without the crown who she’d only been allowed a few rare glimpses of before—while talking to a small child, at the height of passion, over a snowball war—and he was adorable.

  Her heart pulsed painfully but she pushed the emotion to one side.

  Sensation returned as he played with her toes and she thanked God for the timely distraction.

  Don’t ask for more, Juno. When this is all you can have, and all you’re entitled to.

  ‘Seriously, we cannot do it again. I’m exhausted,’ she said as the familiar tug of desire centred in her sex.

  His rough chuckle made her insides hurt. ‘I never knew I had a foot fetish.’ His smile warmed the ache in her heart. He dropped her foot back into his lap, caressed the instep. ‘You have delicious feet, Princess.’

  She grinned back at him, refusing to let the melancholy in.

  The remnants of their Christmas feast—roast turkey, roast potatoes, a medley of vegetables and a red wine jus—lay on the coffee table where they’d devoured it after spending the afternoon and evening devouring each other in between bouts of industriousness in the kitchen.

  Who knew Leo would look so cute learning how to make ham and eggs?

  She resisted the tug of longing. They only had a few hours left—twelve at the most—before they would have to return to the palace. And Leo would be forced to don his crown again.

  The unfairness of that pinched her heart, but she refused to let it in.

  Not forced. Leo wore that responsibility willingly, because that was the kind of man Leo was. Overwhelming, tender, hot as hell, and loyal, but also damaged in ways she recognised, because she had been damaged in the same way. Never loved unconditionally, always knowing that, other than her sister, there was always a price to pay for affection. For approval.

  Leo would never give up the throne—because his father had made him believe that was what gave his life value. And she knew that made a union between them impossible, because she knew she would always be second best. The way her mother had been, to her father.

  She’d spent so much of her life resenting the monarchy. Resenting the choices her father had made, the decision to choose duty instead of family. In a strange way, being with Leo these past two weeks, discovering that she wasn’t as rubbish at pomp and circumstance as she’d thought, had been a revelation, a confidence boost, a way of finally putting those demons to rest. That she could tame her recklessness, control her rebelliousness, if she was given the right support, the right help and guidance.

  Look at me now, Father. I didn’t disgrace you after all.

  Jade had told her at the start of all this that she needed to come to terms with her past. Their past. All that she’d lost all those years ago. And she hadn’t believed her. But her sister had been right.

  She’d needed Leo, needed to prove she wasn’t a nobody, that she was her father’s daughter after all. And that should be enough.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t, because she’d fallen hopelessly in love with Leo in the process.

  A part of her wanted to blurt out the truth. But she couldn’t, because however strong her feelings were, she knew he didn’t return them.

  She couldn’t bear to expose herself again, to b
eg for someone’s love and be rejected. To be told by another man she loved that she was not enough.

  He stroked her feet with his thumbs, sending sensation shimmering into her sex, as he turned to her. ‘Why did you get a job as a short-order cook?’

  The pulse around her heart intensified at the off-hand question. She’d abided by his rules, and now... Did he know he was breaking them?

  ‘Why do you ask?’ she said.

  ‘I just wondered if you did it because you enjoyed cooking so much.’

  The question was loaded.

  She could answer with the platitudes she had always used before, when disguising the reality of her life in New York with her mother. And the financial fallout after her death. She shouldn’t want Leo to know the truth, when no one else ever had. But the memory of what he’d called her on two different occasions came rushing back...

  A spoilt brat.

  And suddenly she wanted him to know that wasn’t who she was. It was dangerous. Perhaps he wouldn’t believe her, he might not even care, but he’d asked. And that was enough.

  ‘I needed the money,’ she said. ‘By the time my mother died we were in a lot of debt. The penthouse had to be repossessed. I’d had a waitressing job at the diner since I was sixteen,’ she added, seeing the stunned surprise in his gaze. ‘But the cook’s position paid more.’

  ‘Why did you need money?’ he said. ‘Did Andreas not give your mother a fair divorce settlement?’ He sounded outraged. Why should that mean so much?

  ‘He did. In fact, he was more than generous. He wanted to be rid of her, and he was willing to pay,’ Juno said, the familiar bitterness tightening her voice. ‘But by the time we’d been in New York for a few years, her drinking had become a problem. She couldn’t hold onto any acting jobs, she’d lost her looks and the constant partying became an excuse to spend everything he sent her and borrow more. By the time I was sixteen we were in tons of debt.’

  ‘Why didn’t your father help you?’ he said, straightening in his chair.

  ‘Because she never acknowledged she had a problem and I’m not even sure he would have helped us if she had. He’d made it very clear that last summer in Monrova that I was a problem he didn’t want to be bothered with either.’

  She’d been too scared to ask, because she’d been sure the answer would be no.

  Leo stroked her feet absently, his gaze locked on her face. ‘Juno, that’s appalling. I had no idea.’

  Her throat thickened and she felt stupidly close to tears. To know that he believed her, that he cared, felt so huge. When it really shouldn’t.

  ‘Do you know what the toughest thing was though?’ she said.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘She still loved him. I always thought it was just drunken ramblings, when I’d be pouring her into bed, she’d say over and over again how much she missed him. How she wished she hadn’t messed up. But I think now she really meant it. I guess it didn’t matter to her that he had never loved her in the same way.’ More than duty, more than scandal, more than his responsibility to the monarchy. ‘Maybe if he had he wouldn’t have discarded her so easily.’ Or me.

  ‘I am sorry I called you a spoilt brat,’ he said, with a forcefulness that made her heart swell even as she acknowledged the dangerous parallels in her own life. She’d always known falling for Leo would be a mistake. Why hadn’t she been able to stop herself? ‘It seems that your childhood was a great deal harder than mine.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ she said. ‘My father never hit me.’

  ‘I should never have told you about that,’ he said, his voice brittle with purpose. ‘He wasn’t a loving man, but I survived. And it taught me self-sufficiency.’

  Did he really believe that?

  She cradled his cheek, felt the muscle tighten in his jaw and her heart broke a little more. They’d both said too much. But even if he regretted it, she never would.

  ‘I wish I could have met that little boy,’ she said, seeing his eyes becoming shuttered. ‘I would have loved to give him a hug.’

  ‘Don’t...’ He clasped her wrist and drew her hand down from his face. And she felt the deep sense of loss.

  She shifted off the sofa, knowing she’d broken the rules, and paced over to the fireplace. She shouldn’t have let that slip. Especially when she felt him step behind her, his voice husky.

  ‘Don’t be sad, Juno. That child is long gone.’

  Is he...? Really? When you still tense at the sight of a few Christmas decorations?

  She should leave it at that. She’d made a promise to herself she wouldn’t beg. Wouldn’t ask, so he could reject her. The way her father had.

  But suddenly it all became too much. The need, the want, the heady emotion scraping against the raw spot he had revealed that still existed in her heart. And not telling him felt like the height of cowardice. What if all she had to do was ask? What if he didn’t reject her, what if he loved her too?

  She turned, to find him watching her. She gathered every last ounce of her courage and made herself tell him the truth.

  ‘I’ve fallen in love with you, Leo.’ The words released on a tortured huff of breath.

  The flicker of shock in his eyes appeared before he could mask it and stabbed right into her heart.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘LOVE IS JUST a word. It doesn’t mean anything.’

  Leo hadn’t wanted to say it, but what else could he do? The last few days—hell, the last entire week—had been torture. And the torture had only got worse. He’d known this might be coming, and he had dreaded it, ever since they had made love the first morning in the cabin and he’d seen the words she wanted to say in her eyes.

  It had become so hard to stick to his own rules. But it was even harder to do so now he knew she was nothing like the woman he had assumed even a week ago.

  She had continued to captivate and inspire him. But what the hell did he do with that, when he had nothing to offer her?

  She blinked and swallowed. ‘Is that all you have to say?’ she whispered, the shock in her voice only making his desperation worse.

  He cupped her cheek, drew his thumb across the line of her lips, unable to stop himself from touching her, even though he knew now it wouldn’t stop the yearning, it would only make it worse.

  ‘We can’t have any more than this week. I thought you understood.’

  She pulled away from his touch. Her eyes darkening, the longing still there, but beneath it was the sadness.

  ‘Why can’t we?’ she asked, so simply his insides turned over. ‘I know you don’t love me back, not yet,’ she added, and the understanding in her voice pierced his heart. ‘All I’m asking is that you let me in, Leo. Is that really so hard?’

  She waited a beat, and the words were on the tip of his tongue. But the rush of emotion, of need, of yearning was so deep and visceral it terrified him.

  He could not expose himself to that need, or it would leave him defenceless. The way he had been after his mother’s death.

  Something he had strived his whole life never to be again.

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ he said, absorbing the desperate yearning he could not give in to.

  ‘I see,’ she said, a heartbreakingly poignant smile on her face. ‘Thank you for being honest with me.’

  She stepped back, the shutters coming down over her expression.

  No. Damn it.

  He grasped her arms, pulled her back into his embrace.

  ‘Why do you need any of that, when all that matters is this?’ he said. But he could hear the desperation in his own voice as he framed her face and pressed a kiss to her lips.

  She opened for him instinctively. Their tongues tangled in a dance of desperation and desire. He felt her shudder of need. He tugged off her sweater and bra to reveal the full breasts, swollen with need. He’d devoured her body
so many times already, why was it never enough?

  He placed her on the sofa, stripped off the rest of her clothes and tore off his own, then knelt in front of her, to find the heart of her pleasure with his lips. She cried out, sobbed as he worked the slick, swollen nub, feeding on her pleasure, knowing exactly how to touch and tempt her to make her shatter.

  This, he could give her this, why wasn’t it enough? It had to be enough.

  She rose up, bucking and shuddering beneath the sensual torment, her scent surrounding him, her surrender complete as the orgasm gripped her.

  He rose over her, plunged the iron-hard erection deep into her welcoming heat, her sheath still pulsing with the brutal orgasm.

  The firelight flickered over her body, the Christmas lights turning the chestnut curls to a mass of colours—her emerald eyes absorbing every ounce of his fear until all that was left was the need.

  He plunged deep, took more.

  He could not be the lover she wanted, could not let himself be that vulnerable ever again.

  As her second orgasm gripped him, he felt his seed—hot, hard, unstoppable—gathering at the base of his spine. He pulled out just in time to spill it on her belly.

  She lay exhausted on the sofa, her emerald eyes glossy with afterglow, but the sadness remained. He gathered his strength, to stand and lift her into his arms. She curled into his embrace, the shuddering sigh making his heart ache. He’d hurt her, and he wanted to make it right.

  He carried her into the bathroom, switched on the power shower. And washed her with gentle, supplicant hands.

  They stood together under the steamy water and he saw the water run down her cheeks, her expression so lost he couldn’t tell if tears were mingled there.

  She shivered with the emotional impact of their joining, and he felt like a bastard.

  He placed her in the bed, and prepared to leave, but she reached out and caught his arm. ‘Can you stay with me tonight? Just this once? I won’t ask any more. I promise. But I don’t think I can be alone.’

  It was such a small thing, and so easy for him to acquiesce. So he broke his own rule and moved into the bed beside her, held her gently in his arms and felt her fall into a deep dreamless sleep.