by Abby Green
Rubbing his thumb over the silky skin of her upper arm, he turned his head and kissed the top of her head. “Tired?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She snuggled closer.
It was amazing what a warm, sweet woman cuddling up to you could do…when it was the right woman. He lifted a hand and put a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to his so that he could kiss her, long and tender. “Then sleep. I’ll hold you.”
He woke before she did. Easing his arm out from under her head, he grinned when she grumbled and curled into a little ball next to him. Shifting himself onto one elbow, he took a moment to study her features.
She was so pretty. Her complexion was roses and cream with a light sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Her dark lashes concealed those incredible eyes— those penetrating eyes that made him feel she could see every thought in his head.
The first night they’d met, she speared him with one look from those eyes and he’d been lost. His body had leaped with interest, but it was more than that—it was as if he’d known from the very start that she was going to be his.
And she was. Satisfaction filled him. She’d finally agreed that marriage was their best choice given the situation. Idly, he wondered what would happen if he’d met her today, in Phoenix, with no pregnancy to make marriage a necessity.
Would he still have been drawn to her so strongly? Would he have called her again? Would he even consider asking her to be his wife?
Of course. That was how it was supposed to work. Arranged marriages were ridiculous, and seemed even more so now that he understood what it was like to be anticipating marriage to the woman he loved—
The woman he loved.
My God, it had been between them the whole time. How had he not known? How had he not recognized it?
On the other hand, why would he? He hadn’t grown up knowing what it felt like to be loved. He’d never allowed himself to need another person, either, like he needed her. He needed her. It was a frightening thought to know that his happiness depended on this one small woman lying beside him.
Shifting onto an elbow, he watched the slow rhythm of her breathing. The milky globes of her breasts were hidden beneath the arms she had folded under her chin and one leg was drawn up, hiding the soft female treasure that had welcomed him earlier. Her belly, stretched and swollen, was tilted down to rest against the bed and he wondered how much bigger she would get.
She was going to need him, too, in a very physical sense that had nothing to do with sex, he realized. For assistance as her body grew even more bulky and cumbersome, but more than that, for reassurance. He wouldn’t let her doubt for a single moment that he found her desirable despite her pregnancy. The fact that she carried a child made from the two of them, from their very first, memorable meeting, only made her more precious in his eyes.
Gently, he laid his hand over her stomach, over the womb where his baby rested.
His baby. Their baby. For a few moments he allowed himself to dream about the child growing within her womb. What would he be like as a father? he wondered. He’d promised himself over the years that any children of his never would have to know the sting of critical words, never would cry themselves to sleep because they hadn’t measured up, never would choose to spend lonely holidays at boarding school rather than go home. Hell, his kids wouldn’t even go to boarding school.
He’s sorry, you know, even if he can’t say it. Roland’s words echoed in his head.
Oh, his father couldn’t have been an easy man to live with even if he had mellowed, as Roland claimed. And his mother…she’d followed her husband’s lead her entire life. Rafe had sensed more than once that she’d have liked to be warmer, more demonstrative and loving with him, but she’d never disobey the Grand Duke’s edict that too much coddling would spoil the boy.
Rafe’s children were going to know they were loved in every way there was. If that spoiled them, then too bad. It beat rejection.
He came out of his reverie then to see Elizabeth lying quietly, sleepy emerald eyes studying his face. She reached out a hand and laid it gently on his cheek and he turned his face into her palm, pressing a whisper-light kiss there before taking the hand and bringing it to the back of his neck. Slowly he leaned over her and set his mouth on hers, kissing her with all the tenderness his newly realized love gave him. When he lifted his head, there were tears in her eyes and he knew she’d caught something of his feelings in the gentle caress.
Dinner with his family was more of a success than he’d have believed was possible before this day. But now, Rafe caught himself thinking of the legions of ancestors who had lived in this very building. It would be exciting to share that with his child someday, on a visit to his father’s homeland.
On a visit… For the first time he had a moment’s dissatisfaction with his life-style. His child’s heritage was here, where hundreds of years had passed under his family’s rule. It was a remarkable legacy…was he wrong to reject it so completely?
Flying back to Wynborough that evening, to the palace where Elizabeth was staying with her parents, he remembered what she’d been pestering him about during their trip the previous afternoon. Though talking about his childhood wasn’t high on his list of favorite activities, he said abruptly, “My parents—my father in particular—had very set ideas on how to raise a little duke-to-be. I had to ride, hunt, fish, speak French, read Latin, excel at mathematics and science, study the classics, recite every rule of etiquette, know proper forms of address—you name it, my father believed I should do it.”
Elizabeth put a hand over his where it rested on the wheel of the car he drove. “Your childhood must have been busy.”
“Busy.” He laughed, but even he could hear the pain in the sound. “I wanted to please. I can remember lying awake as a very small boy, rehearsing over and over again how to greet the King of Wynborough at my first formal presentation the next day. But when the next day came, I was so nervous that I threw up while we were waiting in line to be presented. My father was livid.”
Her fingers tightened briefly on his.
“They sent me to school when I was five because my father felt I lacked proper self-discipline. It was horrible. Cold showers every morning, standing in perfect lines at all times, no extra servings at meals. For a growing boy, that alone was torture. But do you know what the worst thing was?”
He sensed rather than saw her shake her head in the dark interior of the vehicle. “The worst thing was that soon, too soon, I preferred that hellish school to my own home. At school, hard work had rewards. At home, hard work only meant more difficult tasks and more criticism.”
He stopped speaking. There was no point in going on. She got the picture.
“Rafe…” Her voice was soft and hesitant and when he glanced at her he could see the tracks where tears had slipped down her cheeks. “I promise our child will never be a…a product to be perfected. Our children will be works of art, great treasures to be protected and preserved for their own unique characteristics.”
Her words moved him, and the fact that she’d said “children” wasn’t lost on him. Reaching across the car, he wiped away the telltale moisture with the pad of his thumb and caressed her cheek before returning his hand to the wheel.
“Mother, I’ll be back in five days, I promise.” Elizabeth hugged the Queen of Wynborough. “Plenty of time to get your wedding gown altered to fit a pregnant bride.”
“But why go at all?” her mother asked plaintively. “It isn’t as if there’s anything in Phoenix for you to do in the next two weeks.”
But there is. According to Laura, Sam Flynn is back in town. It would be wonderful if I could bring my brother home for my wedding!
But aloud all she said was, “I have to go. I don’t want to be away from Rafe so long. You make the rest of the arrangements as you see fit.” That wasn’t a lie. She didn’t want to be away from Rafe. At all.
“We’ll keep it simple,” Gabriella promised. She smiled wistfully. “
Although it would have been nice to throw a huge wedding for at least one of my daughters!”
Elizabeth laughed ruefully, thinking of the men who had claimed each of her sisters, the whirlwind weddings and the after-the-fact announcements. “Oh, Mother, I’m sorry. We spoiled your dreams, every single one of us.”
The Queen took her daughter’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead. “No, dear, you didn’t. In fact, you’ve all fulfilled the only dream your father and I have ever had for you. You’ve found love.”
Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at Rafe, talking with the King. “Is it that obvious?”
“What, that you adore each other?” Her mother smiled. “Only to eyes that know how to spot it.”
If only it were true, Elizabeth thought as they completed their good-byes and Rafe helped her into the car. He’d begun to treat her as if he truly did care for her. She’d started to hope that maybe her marriage would be more than a one-sided love affair for the rest of her life.
The trip back to Phoenix was tiring, if uneventful. She slept much of the way on both planes while Rafe read and watched movies. When they stepped out of the car into the brilliant winter sun outside his home, Elizabeth smiled and raised her face to its warmth. “I didn’t even realize I’d missed this until now. Oh, Rafe, I do love this town!”
He laughed as he walked around to the trunk to get their bags. “It’s a good thing. My business is firmly established here. I’d hate to have to move it now.”
Halfway up the sidewalk, she stopped and turned to him. “You’d actually consider moving if I asked you to?”
There was a moment of stillness in the dry air. Slowly Rafe set down the bags he carried. “Well,” he said, “I’d prefer not to move to Wynborough unless you can’t be happy anywhere else, but yes, if you really wanted me to, I’d move my business.” He reached down and took her hands, holding them in his much larger ones as he held her eyes with his intense blue gaze. “Don’t you know I’d do anything to make you happy?”
She felt her eyes filling with tears at his tender tone, and she swallowed. “All it takes to make me happy is you.”
Something wild and bright flared in his eyes for a moment, then he dropped her hands and gathered her into his arms. “I might have been too stubborn to admit it, but you’ve owned my heart since the first time I looked across a ballroom and saw those green cat-eyes watching me.” Dropping his head, he found her mouth with his, kissing her until she hung limp in his arms, gasping for breath with her body melded to his from breast to knee. “Let’s go inside,” he growled against her lips, “so I can make us both very happy.”
In the middle of the night he was awakened by an odd sensation.
Rafe came fully alert in an instant with Elizabeth still in his arms. Confused, he glanced around the shadows of the bedroom he’d soon be sharing with his wife—his wife!— and then he felt it again.
A tiny thudding right at the spot where the mound of Elizabeth’s full stomach was pressed against his side. Shifting himself fractionally, he placed his hand on the spot, then waited impatiently. There! Again, the same motion. And now that he was watching more closely, he could see by the full moonlight streaming in the window that there was a slight but definite movement beneath the surface of her skin. Someone in there wanting to come out, he thought whimsically.
“Hey, you in there,” he whispered. “It’s the middle of the night. This is when people sleep. You might as well get that concept down right now.”
A snuffling noise told him Elizabeth had awakened. Then she giggled more loudly. “Are you talking to the baby?”
“Yes. He’s keeping me awake.”
He could see her raised eyebrows in the dim light. “He? I’m hoping ‘he’ is a ‘she.”’
The words jogged a memory, and without really thinking about it, he said, “You and Roland. Am I the only one who wants a boy?”
She went still beneath his hand. So still that he’d swear she wasn’t breathing. Then, in an instant, she relaxed. “Maybe,” she said. But there was something in her voice that bothered him.
The memory came back more clearly now and he recalled the odd phrasing that he’d been too distracted to question that day. “Roland said it would be simpler if it was a girl. Why?”
The moment the words hit the quiet night air, he wished he could get them back. Erase them and go on, blissfully unaware. A chill crawled up his back, though he didn’t know why, and he felt a slow, inexorable change imbue the very air around them with dread. Moving deliberately, he sat up and looked down at her.
“Why?” he demanded again.
She hesitated. Pushing herself to a sitting position also, she scooted back a little, moving away from him. She linked her fingers together in her lap, looked down at them, and sighed. The sound carried a distinct note of resignation. “Your father started to tell you, but he was interrupted. There’s been a great deal of discussion in recent years, in light of Wynborough’s current lack of male heirs to the crown, as to how to proceed when the time comes.”
“That’s great. But it doesn’t affect us.”
“Well, actually, it might.” She moved back even farther as if she wanted to be out of his reach. “Two months ago a new proviso to the law was enacted.”
“What kind of proviso?” He had a sick feeling jittering around in his stomach, and abruptly he recalled the vehement tone in his father’s voice when they’d spoken of living in Phoenix. Unable to sit for another minute, he sprang from the bed, snatching a pair of sweatpants from the bedpost and stuffing his legs into them. “I’m waiting,” he barked when she didn’t respond.
“A proviso to ensure that the Wyndham line continues,” she said in a low voice. “Since there is no eldest son to inherit, the eldest grandson will be the one to ascend the throne when my father…isn’t the king anymore.”
“The eldest grandson?” he repeated cautiously.
She nodded, apprehension clearly visible. “No matter which princess is his mother, the eldest grandson will be the next king.”
He was incredulous. Fury rose as he realized fully what her words meant. There was a distinct possibility that his child, were it a son, would be the heir to the throne of Wynborough. “I can’t believe this!” His voice was tight with the rage erupting inside him. “You know how I feel about this whole royalty thing and now you tell me if we have a son, he might be the next king?”
“Rafe, I didn’t plan this,” she said, a note of pleading entering her voice. “I certainly didn’t intend to get pregnant the first time we met. And I didn’t intend to marry you, remember?”
“You still expect me to believe that?” He was too angry to care about the words he hurled at her. “You knew who I was at the ball that night. Our fathers didn’t have as much to do with this as I’d thought, did they?”
“That’s not true! I had no idea who you were—”
“Sure. And pigs fly, Princess.”
“I told you my father would never arrange a marriage for me. He doesn’t believe in such an archaic custom.”
“Maybe not, but he didn’t mind sacrificing a virgin daughter for the good of the Crown, did he?”
She gasped. Tears were swimming in her eyes and as he watched, one fat drop slipped down her cheek. And still he went on, every suspicion he’d ever harbored erupting in a raging river of fury.
“I was right all along, wasn’t I? You nearly had me fooled. But now your real agenda’s been exposed. If you can’t be the king—which you can’t, being a female—then be the next best thing. Elizabeth, the Queen Mother. And I’m the perfect catch. Heir to the Grand Duchy of Thortonburg. If I were to inherit the title. I bet it was one hell of a shock when you found out I’m just plain old Rafe Thorton and intend to remain that way!”
The tears were pouring down her face now. “That’s not what happened!” she screamed at him. She came off the bed in a rush, dragging the sheet around her to conceal her nakedness. As if he gave a damn. “I didn’t know who you
were when we met. I didn’t even make the connection to Thortonburg when I found your card.” She was shaking with rage, and he had a sudden moment of concern for the baby she carried.
“Eliz—”
“I loved you,” she said, dashing the tears from her cheeks with one hand. “All I ever wanted was to marry you and have a family. Here in America or any other place you chose. That stupid title doesn’t appeal to me any more than it does to you,” she said fiercely.
“Right. And when were you planning to share this little ‘proviso’ with me?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You knew about this months ago, no doubt. These kinds of laws aren’t passed overnight. Were you afraid one of your sisters was going to beat you to the prize?” His heart was pounding so hard, he could feel it hammering against his wrist where it pressed against his skin and he felt as if his head was going to explode. How could she have done this to him? Easily. You were just the means to the end, buddy.
“I was waiting until the baby was born to tell you,” she said in answer to his original question. Her voice was flat and dull. “I knew how you’d react. But if it’s a girl, there would be no reason for concern. Alexandra’s already expecting her first baby and my other two sisters recently married—I have every hope that one of them will produce the heir instead of me.”
“Every hope,” he repeated tightly.
“Every hope,” she enunciated. “But you have such a phobia about your ties to the crown that it won’t really matter even if it is a girl, will it, Rafe? Even if this baby is a daughter, you’re still going to be stuck with a royal connection that’s only one step away from the King. And you’ll blame me for that for the rest of my life. I’ll never be able to change my blood to something less blue. And you know what?” She stormed across the room until she was right in his face and he could see the deep, open wound he’d torn in her heart reflected in her eyes. “I wouldn’t even if I could. I love my family. They’re not my enemies, and I won’t pretend to be somebody I’m not, even for you.” She stopped and took a deep breath that hitched twice before she regained control. “You can forget this marriage. I’m going back to Wynborough to be with people who love me the way I am.”