He hitched a fast breath as she closed her fingers around the base of his straining cock, positioned her thumb along its mid-line, and licked her lips.
“Let me.” A raw huskiness edged her voice, and a hunger in her eyes reflected his own desperate need fed it, ramping it up tenfold.
She stroked his hard manhood, fascinated by his alien masculinity, and encouraged by his low-pitched sounds of pleasure, took him in her mouth.
He pressed against her and soaked up the sensations of her hand, her tongue, her mouth, around him as she took him deep. So much for the woman who just a few nights ago was a virgin. The prospect of the next few days was looking better all the time.
His brain swirled with sensation and indecision. Should I try and make this last longer or just give in?
But it wasn’t long before he made her stop and gathered her into his arms again.
“I can’t take much of that, Angel,” he confessed, laying her down on the narrow bed, covering her with his hard body. “I need to bury myself in you.”
She felt his rock-hard length nudge at her core, and it was her turn to be consumed by him.
He made a sound as he filled her, harsh like the cry of a wounded animal, as if it had been torn from his soul.
She clung to him, afraid for him.
Afraid for herself.
And then he was pumping into her, so fast and furious that sensation exploded inside of her like a fireball.
The excitement built so fast she couldn’t catch up with it. Instead, she was wholly at the mercy of exquisite sensation while the knot of need tightening low in her stomach coiled ever tighter.
His whole body tightened.
The pressure intensified, taking control of him. His hips flexed of their own accord. His hands tangling in her hair.
Through eyes still blurred with passion she looked at him, into his wild eyes and saw the agony that marked his beautiful face and read the words inscribed on his soul—it was already too late—when with a roar he plunged hard into her, burying himself to the hilt, again and again, sending her shuddering into the abyss once more.
This wasn’t tenderness that filled him with a fiery resolve. It was possession. Pure, raw, wild.
If she could glimpse the brutish, primal impulses coursing through him, she would run like a rabbit fleeing a ravenous wolf.
And he would catch her.
“You’re mine,” he said hoarsely, lifting his head and staring deep into her eyes, willing her to believe, as in a final turbulent release he surrendered to pleasure.
10
“You’re a wildcat,” he whispered, a hint of humor in his voice. “I never would have guessed it.”
“And I suppose you’re a lamb?” she quipped.
He grinned lazily at her. “Depends.”
There was a world of meaning in that one little word.
But she was too worried about his reaction to the news she was about to deliver to think about that.
“So, this is where you live,” he remarked, a lean shapely hand encompassing the whole room, which in comparison to the grandeur of his home, was no more than a narrow passage which would provide access to the rooms of his employees. Like the ugly urban street outside and the tired furnishings, it spoke of a poverty he seldom saw and had certainly never experienced. The lackluster surroundings shot him out of his comfort zone and he began to make plans to transfer her to a house befitting his mistress.
“Yes.” She shifted away, now the ardor had cooled, aware she had to tell him about the baby. “We have to talk.”
Talk? Angus did not like the ominous sound of that word. His needs and wishes were the height of masculine simplicity: he wanted to feast his eyes on her for a few minutes more and take her home with him and make love for the rest of the night in a proper bed, in a room that was larger than a shed.
But she got up from the bed and went to what he supposed was the bathroom.
He put his clothes back on and was just zipping up his jeans when she came back wrapped in a white terrycloth robe that covered her from head to foot.
“Haven’t you already guessed why I contacted you?” she pressed, the tip of her tongue stealing out to moisten her plump lower lip.
He smiled at her. “You missed me.”
“Yes, but that’s not the only thing I missed.”
What on earth is she talking about? “Meaning?” he prompted.
Siobhan could not comprehend why he was being so obtuse. “Isn’t it obvious? I missed my period. I’m pregnant!”
Siobhan’s announcement hit him like a bolt from the blue and stunned him. “What?”
“I’m going to have a baby!”
His lean, handsome face clenched and he paled, as the news opened a small window onto his painful lonely childhood. Yet, as he stood there studying her, a warmth spread in his chest, marveling at her words. He had already come to terms that he was as infertile as the rest of his family and would never father a child. A child!
“Say something,” Siobhan urged unhappily.
A child! It was the only thing that was missing in his life. And the requisite heir, but that didn’t concern him so much. Angus lowered his lids, veiling his stunned eyes. Or is she lying?
Angus studied her in brooding silence, transfixed by that staggering claim which overcame him, while wondering what she could possibly hope to gain from a lie. “Do you know this for sure, or do you just think it’s the reason you missed your period?”
Her shoulder slumped and she went to a table, opened a drawer and took an envelope from it. “I saw a doctor today, Angus.”
He trembled inside as he opened the envelope and scanned its content. Given the five childless years of his own marriage and him being the sole heir—via artificial insemination—of his own parents, it was a challenge for him to believe she could be genuinely pregnant by him. But the exam result was clear; it matched the date of their night together, and it predicted a date of birth.
He swore soft and low in Lektenstaten dialect.
For a split second, a primitive leap of satisfaction and relief lanced through him that he was not, after all, unable to ensure the continuation of the family name. Squashing that leap of satisfaction, he surveyed her with impenetrable golden eyes, fierce tension thrumming through his big, powerful body. If she did prove to be pregnant, he would have to marry her for the baby’s sake. He could see no other solution to the situation.
“You’re not on birth control pills, or don’t use anything else?”
“I had no need of it. I was a virgin, remember?” she reminded him drily, to cover her uneasiness. Did he lead a charmed life in which nothing ever went badly wrong for him? He had made love to her three times. Didn’t he think for a single moment she was young and fertile? “Besides, it took two of us to be careless.”
His innate sense of practicality was already processing the concept of a second marriage and doing so at speed. What choice do I have?
He owed a duty of care towards Siobhan and their unborn child. He owed it to his family name. But he wasn’t sure how he felt about heedlessly surrendering his freedom just as he had begun to adjust to it and to the loss of Innes. Even so, if he came out of it with the next generation in the family secured, perhaps it would be worth the sacrifice, he reasoned grimly. At least it would be the most physically satisfying requirement he’d had to fulfill in a life replete with sacred duties and responsibilities.
Siobhan nervously watched Angus restlessly pace the floor of her room, feeling trapped standing so close to a male as tall and well-built as Angus in such a confined area. His lean, strong face was unreadable, his brilliant golden eyes semi-screened by his luxuriant black fringe of lashes.
“I made an oversight for which I apologize.” Angus shot her a sardonic appraisal. “We’ll get married as soon as possible.”
Angus was already picturing her in his four-poster bed, a seductive image that acted as an opportune sweetener to his reluctance to remarry.
&nb
sp; Married? Siobhan blinked in astonishment. “Marry? You can’t be serious. You hardly know me—”
“If you’re carrying my baby, we must.”
“I do not want to marry you! I do not want to be pregnant!” she told him vehemently. “In fact, the very idea of it terrifies me!”
His ebony brows had pleated in a bemused frown as she became increasingly emotional and he surveyed her with considerable coolness, for he had expected—not unnaturally in his own opinion—a much more enthusiastic response to his proposal. Few women in her position would have hesitated. What’s her problem? What’s holding her back? “What is the meaning of that strange comment?”
Her body liked the idea, too much. Her heart, mind, and pride knew better. She did not want to be a wife who would stay at home taking care of the kids while her husband gallivanted around the world accompanied by blonde models—no matter how beautiful and exciting he was, and how wild he made her feel when he touched her. “I’m not marrying you. I don’t want to make a hasty marriage that I’ll live to regret or will end in divorce.”
“You’re hysterical,” Angus informed her coldly.
“No, I’m not. If I was hysterical I would be throwing things and screaming. As it is, I’m just furious with this whole situation, and I want it to end asap!”
“Hell, no!” His lean, strong face was etched into forbidding lines and his stunning eyes were hot with indignation when he understood her meaning. “A termination isn’t an option for my heir.”
She was shocked that he could possibly think for a single moment that she didn’t want this baby.
“God, the man is not only arrogant, he is crazy. He’s already calling a bunch of cells his heir.” She laughed mirthlessly and shook her head, saying, “Not even considering it could be an heiress. For. God’s. Sake.”
He looked at her, confused. “In Lektenstaten we make no discrimination against sex. My first offspring, be it a son or a daughter, will be the next King or Queen. Independent of sex, he or she will rule over the country.”
Her eyes widened in amazement at the same time she turned as pale as the walls and dropped on the sofa. Oh, shit! “What do you mean, King? I thought you were a duke or something.”
Angus sighed and patiently explained he was not a common peer—if there was such a thing—but he was the king of the principality called Lektenstaten.
Siobhan was horrified by that revelation, for she could not imagine how someone as ordinary as her could possibly become the wife of a man of such wealth and high status.
“By marrying me and bearing my children, you’ll be the Princess—like a royal princess—of Lektenstaten and will have duties, such as accompanying me to lunches and dinners, helping me receive presidents and heads of State, and so on.”
Siobhan had suddenly become as stiff as if she’d had a poker strapped to her spine. “Do I look like the ornamental type?”
Angus blew out a breath. He’d had more than enough drama for one night and he refused to be the ongoing target of her resentment and disdain. “When are you planning to take responsibility for your own behavior? And stop trying to blame me for it?”
She felt mortified and the color drained from her face, for he hit too close to home with that rejoinder. She pointed him to the door. “Right now, all I want is for you to leave—”
At that moment the front door opened and revealed Jaxon’s broad, solid frame. He stared at her and Angus with squinting blue eyes. “What’s going on in here?”
“Angus was just about to leave,” Siobhan snapped.
“No, I was not,” he replied icily, and asked, “And you are?”
“I’m Jaxon Talbot, Siobhan’s brother,” Jaxon addressed Angus, while at the same time moving through the room to take up a protective stance beside Siobhan.
Angus was taken aback by the sudden appearance of another male and aggressive instincts threatened his rigid self-discipline. He was quick to recognize the possessive light in the younger man’s expression.
Annoyance and suspicion slivered through Angus, for it was obvious that Siobhan and Jaxon lived below the same roof.
“I’m not giving you a choice on this. You cannot bring up any child of mine alone,” Angus breathed tautly. “I want my child to grow up in my home with his family and to speak my language. We can only achieve that end by becoming man and wife. And aside from my personal preferences, there are security protocols for the royal family that are non-negotiable. That child cannot, and will not grow up in this…neighborhood.”
If she’d just been snappish and churlish he probably would have wanted to wring her neck. But what he saw was a woman valiantly trying to maintain control. She was rattled—every bit as rattled as he was—and it looked as if she would shatter at any moment.
He couldn’t push her. It would be unconscionable. Even as the thought of allowing her to walk out without having anything settled made his stomach knot.
“I think you should do as she asks and go now,” Jaxon said, maintaining a calm demeanor.
“Don’t worry, I have no desire to stay,” Angus derided in a tone of pure ice to Jaxon, before turning to Siobhan, and telling her in a softer voice, “I will be back tomorrow morning and we’ll sit and talk like civilized people about marriage and babies.”
As he walked to his waiting limousine, he knew it was certainly not an easy option for her: to marry a man she hardly knew and move to another country, another culture, one in which she did not even speak the language.
He was still frowning as he eased his tall frame into his limousine. Because for him, it was the only option.
As the limo drove out of the neighborhood, Angus noticed graffiti, cars in various states of disrepair, and a general sense of squalor in the area which brought to mind increased crime rates in such areas. A sudden anxiety overtook him as he realized his unborn child was at risk until such time as he could persuade Siobhan to relocate to his country.
He tapped the first number on his speed dial list and spoke quickly when the call was answered. “Hire two-armed security guards to secure a residence and one of the occupants wherever she goes. Text and photo to follow. And order them to be discreet. I do not want the secured party, or her roommate to know they’re under such protection.”
He ended the call feeling a little more at ease knowing his unborn child would be protected to some extent, although not quite enough for his comfort. He texted the address and a photo from her online yearbook which he had found in the midst of an excruciatingly boring parliament speech recently.
He followed that text with one more.
Highest priority level. Spare no time nor expense.
11
Mayfair
Braxton-Lenox House
11:00 p.m.
Angus sat staring out his office window as snow fell steadily outside.
His mood was as foul as the weather.
The past twelve hours had been the worst sort of hell as he tortured himself with the thought of Siobhan being pregnant; fear she wasn’t taking care of herself; that something could happen to her. And on top of all that was his mother. If Siobhan ever agreed to marry him, his mother would positively object. Winning the first battle would commence a second, uglier one. That thought brought to mind terrible memories and he pushed it away at once, bringing his focus back to the present.
Since leaving Siobhan’s house, worry, guilt, and anxiety had taken over his every waking moment, and dominated his dreams as well.
And he only had himself to blame.
He should never have given in to the temptation of the delicious waitress. He damn sure should have been more careful with the birth control. He should have just left Siobhan the hell alone.
Then he wouldn’t be sitting here feeling gutted with worry over losing something precious and at the same time unwanted—or at least ahead of schedule. He did want a beautiful wife and to raise a family, but just not yet. On the positive side, if he was to be limited to one sexual partner from now on,
he couldn’t have made a better choice. Despite everything that occupied his mind, and the drastic change in the nature of his relationship with her, underneath everything, the sexual current was still humming along.
He hated she’d already adamantly turned down his offer—or rather, his demand—that she move in with him.
Not that he could blame her.
He was certain he came across as some unbalanced freak. Disappearing for days—make that weeks, and then showing up out of the blue and demanding she marry him.
He wanted the intimacy two people who’d created a child together should have and enjoy. He wanted his child to have a normal life, normal parents, and a normal childhood—as normal as an heir to the Lektenstaten throne could have. And if it wasn’t asking for too much, he’d ideally like to be in love, and be loved.
Maybe that would’ve happened with Siobhan. She was certainly unlike any woman he’d been with before. Maybe it still could happen. He just didn’t know. But he knew things were not off to a promising start.
And if she refuses to marry me? he asked himself. He reluctantly admitted she was strong-willed and stubborn enough to hold fast to her rejection. What then? A custody suit?
The idea filled him with dread. If he was going to tangle with her, he wanted it to be between the sheets, not in a court of law.
“I need more information,” he murmured, picking up his phone and dialing Dr. Qasam Singh’s private number.
“Your Majesty! This is a surprise. How may I help you today?”
“I have a question regarding a delicate subject. Are you free to talk privately?”
“Just me and my office,” Dr. Singh said with a friendly chuckle. “Please, ask me anything.”
“Regarding pregnancy…” Without giving too much away, Angus learned as much as he could about the mysterious nature of female magic, the strengths and weaknesses inherent to pregnancy, and a few of the more common risks and their signs.
He found the risks to be unacceptably significant. The small glimmer of a plan lit the corners of his mind as the doctor talked but he needed to be a hundred percent sure it would not endanger the baby, or the lovely mother. “Dr. Singh, I need your most accurate opinion on a very private matter. It goes without saying it’s strictly confidential—”
Royal Love Page 8