The Pregnant Princess

by Anne Marie Winston

  So that was why she’d been so coy about her purchases. She was shy about buying maternity clothes. And it suddenly struck him that he was being less than a gentleman when she was probably feeling insecure enough about her body. “Elizabeth,” he said. “There hasn’t been a serious woman in my life in…well, ever.” He leaned across the table. “And you don’t have to buy any knickers for my benefit. I like you just fine without them.”

  Her face was a study in consternation. “Sh-h-h! This is hardly the place to talk about my lingerie!”

  He couldn’t agree more. The thought of Elizabeth as he’d seen her the night they made love, clothed only in moonlight and shadow, had its usual effect on his body. Why, he wondered, could one special woman make every one of your senses sit up and take notice while the rest… Since he’d met Elizabeth, he couldn’t even remember another woman’s face.

  Still, he was glad he’d brought up the topic. Or pursued it. Whatever. She might insist on no kissing, but he planned to make sure she didn’t forget what it had been like between them that night.

  Because he fully intended to repeat it. Soon.

  Her eyes were alive with wary sexual recognition and he smiled at her, a predator’s smile, lazy and content because he knew that eventually he’d get what he wanted. “Okay, we’ll change the subject. What would you like to do tomorrow?”

  “Cook breakfast,” she said eagerly.

  He stared at her for a second, then threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, we’ll cook breakfast. Shall I teach you how to make French toast?”

  As she nodded, it occurred to him that she was changing, absorbing American ways and independence and enjoying herself in the process.

  She was never going to fit comfortably into her sheltered royal life-style again. He’d have her thoroughly Americanized soon.

  The thought was more satisfying than it should have been.

  A few days later, in yet another restaurant, where they’d gone at Elizabeth’s request for a taste of authentic Mexican cuisine, she had the nerve to laugh at him when he suggested some of the spicier fare might not be good for the baby.

  “The baby won’t suffer, but I might.” She smiled as she liberally splashed a hot sauce over her dish.

  “Tell me about your childhood,” he said, taking the bottle and setting it beyond her reach. “Not the official bio— I know that. What were you and your sisters like as children?”

  A soft smile touched her lips and he wondered if she knew what her smile did to his nervous system.

  “As children…well, I suppose it depends on which of us you’re discussing,” she said. “Alexandra is the eldest and she was a very responsible little person who took her duties much too seriously. I think she felt she had to be especially good at doing ‘the royal thing’ since Mummy and Daddy had lost their only son.” The laughter in her eyes dimmed and he could see shadows of sadness. “My parents were very loving, but there was always an awareness, if you can call it that, that our family wasn’t complete. It’s rather silly sounding, but true. James, my brother, was kidnapped before any of us was even born, so it wasn’t as if we’d known him and missed him. It’s hard to explain.”

  “He was a part of your family,” Rafe said quietly. “I remember the kidnapping. I was about five then, I think. The whole world mourned. I remember my mother sitting in front of the television crying.”

  There was a moment of silence between them. Elizabeth looked as if she was about to say something more on the topic, but then her lips firmed into a line as if she was pressing back the words.

  To get her mind off the sober twist in the conversation, he said, “Tell me about your other two sisters.”

  Elizabeth’s introspection vanished in the blink of an eye and she smiled that fond, intimate smile that reminded him that back in Wynborough she had a life waiting for her that didn’t include him. “Katherine is two years younger than I am. She’s the quiet one most of the time.” She grinned. “Unless you make her mad. She was the one who put the brakes on some of our crazier stunts.”

  “So you were the wild one?”

  “Not quite. Serena’s the baby. We all treated her like a little princess—literally—when she was small and we spoiled her terribly. If she wasn’t such a sweet person, she’d be a terrible brat. Serena could twist anyone around her finger. She came up with some of the most outrageous ideas.” She paused. “Or shall I say that Serena came up with the ideas that got us in the most hot water?”

  “I can’t imagine it was too bad. All the press I ever saw portrayed you as well-behaved young ladies.”

  “Oh, we were,” she assured him. “For the most part.”

  “And the other part?”

  Her eyes twinkled with mirth, and her lips parted in laughter. When she began to speak again, the little dimple in her chin deepened, and he had to resist a sudden, insane urge to reach over the table and lay his finger right in the center of that small depression.

  “When I was about twelve, Serena had this great idea involving buckets of syrup and bags of feathers suspended over a doorway. Katherine tried to talk us out of it, but then she decided it might be fun and she quit whining. We did it in the stable where we could hide in the hayloft and watch. We figured we might get one of the stable lads, maybe the trainer if we were lucky.”

  “And did you?”

  She shook her head, miming sorrow. “Unfortunately for us, my father had gone riding that day.”

  “You poured syrup over the king?” He was still steeped in his royal roots enough to be truly horrified. And he could only imagine his own father’s wrath over such a stunt.

  “And feathers,” she added. “For what it’s worth, it works magnificently.”

  “I just bet.” He could feel the laughter bubbling up, and he let it go. When she joined in, he howled even more, mentally envisioning the reigning monarch of Wynborough covered in sticky feathers. Finally, his amusement died away to an occasional chuckle. “Remind me never to get on your sister Serena’s bad side,” he said.

  And just that quickly the atmosphere changed. Her face sobered instantly, and she picked up her taco again. “I doubt there will ever be any occasion for you to meet,” she said.

  Her attitude got under his skin and before he could restrain himself, he leaned across the tiny table until he was right in her face. “As the father of your child, I’m going to be meeting all of your family eventually.”

  “Why should you?” He could tell he’d shaken her, but still she didn’t back down. “It’s not as if we were getting married. We barely know each other.”

  Her tone irritated him thoroughly, and her words annoyed him even more. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, we’re going to get to know each other a whole lot better.”

  Four

  “Fine. You want us to get to know each other, now it’s your turn.” Elizabeth gestured at him with her taco. He could tell he’d unsettled her when he’d spoken in that tone of voice that told her he meant every word he said, but she clearly didn’t intend to let him think she was just going to listen. God forbid she should make it easy.

  “My turn to what?” he asked.

  “Tell me about your childhood.”

  “I only lived at home for five years before I got shipped off to boarding school,” he said dismissively. “There’s not much to tell.”

  Elizabeth set down her food and her green eyes began to flash. “I know evasion when I hear it. This getting-to-know-you bit was your idea to start with, so don’t try to wriggle out of your half of the deal.”

  He shrugged. “There really isn’t anything exciting to tell. I was sent to boarding school, went to Eton over in the U.K. from there and eventually to Oxford. That was when I decided to come to the States for further study at Harvard University.”

  “You have a brother. I know him.” Elizabeth was prompting him as if he were slightly slow and he sighed, having learned enough about her by now to know she wouldn’t give up—or shut up—until h
e had satisfied her curiosity.

  “Roland. I was nine when he was born. You probably know him better than I ever will. Each of us was raised virtually as an only child.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “I can’t imagine not being close to my family. You must have missed them terribly when you went away to school.”

  “No.” When she turned startled green eyes on him, he realized his answer had been too immediate, too final. “My father and I are like oil and water,” he said, shrugging to indicate how little it mattered. “It was a relief to everyone, I’m sure, when I was at school. When I came home on holiday, we only seemed to get on each other’s nerves.” An understatement of the greatest proportion. But there was no reason for her to know the rest. He’d forgotten half of it himself.

  She was looking at him speculatively, and he could see that she wasn’t done with the topic. So it was a surprise when she spoke again.

  “So what shall we do this afternoon?”

  “That depends on you,” he said. “Are you tired? If you’d like to nap, we can go home.” The sound of the phrase struck him forcefully. What would it be like if Elizabeth lived with him? If they really could go home together?

  She wouldn’t be napping alone.

  The basic truth annoyed him. He wondered how many men thought a pregnant woman was the sexiest thing they’d ever seen.

  It was only that his body remembered Elizabeth’s, he assured himself. It was normal to wonder if that first time had become better in retrospect than it had really been. Just because he couldn’t ever remember better sex in his life was no big deal.

  Then the significance of the earlier thought drowned out all others. If Elizabeth lived with him…! Where had that come from? True, he fully intended to marry one day, which would certainly entail sharing his home with a wife. But why was it that he could so easily picture his pregnant princess in the role?

  Could there be a woman anywhere on the globe less suited to his life-style than a blueblood who’d known luxury every waking moment of her life?

  The incongruity of it would be laughable if it wasn’t so damned irritating. He’d spent the better part of his adult life running from his aristocratic status and here he was, about to become a father to a child who would have even more ties to royalty.

  He and Elizabeth might not agree on many things, but they’d always be stuck with each other now, all because of his irresponsible behavior. For the rest of his life, he’d have royal ties that could never be broken. That much he was sure of. No child of his would be raised in the rigid, duty-demanding manner that he had been. He intended to be a warm, loving father in every way.

  “I’m not tired,” she said, interrupting his racing thoughts. “For the first three months all I wanted to do was sleep, but now I feel great most of the time.”

  The first three months.

  Before he could squash the curiosity that welled, he asked, “How long was it before you realized our night together had lasting consequences?”

  She slanted him an enigmatic look even though he could see the pretty pink blush deepening in her cheeks again. “You mean other than losing my virginity? That I realized right away.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.” He pushed his plate aside, no longer hungry. He’d been a cad and he knew it; she didn’t have to keep reminding him of how careless and thoughtless his actions had been. “When did you first suspect you were pregnant?”

  She finished the last bite of her taco and set her plate aside as well, then took her sweet time dabbing at her mouth with her napkin and studiously wiping her fingers before laying it aside. She didn’t look at him. Instead, her eyes were unfocused as she looked into the past. “I was worried about it right away. So I took a pregnancy test as soon as it was recommended. It confirmed my fears.”

  “What did you do then?” His conscience jabbed even more sharply.

  Unexpectedly, she smiled. “After the first day or so of panic, I realized I was happy about it. I’m looking forward to being a mother.”

  “Even without a husband?”

  Her smiled dimmed slightly. “Even without a husband. Though that’s going to make it difficult when I tell my parents.”

  “Don’t you think you’ve waited a bit long?”

  Her smile grew brittle around the edges. “It’s my baby. When and how I choose to share the news with my parents isn’t your concern.”

  Want to bet? His jaw ached from grinding his teeth to keep from informing her that it damned well was his concern. But he knew that would be the worst thing he could say to her. A glimmer of an idea teased at the edges of his mind. If her parents didn’t know yet, he might be able to use that as leverage to get her to stay. Satisfied with his own cleverness, he let it pass. “So you aren’t tired. Is there anything special you’d like to do?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “What I’d really enjoy is a hot air balloon ride. I read somewhere that you can take a one-hour ride over the Sonoran Desert that includes a champagne brunch—”

  “No way.”

  “I beg your pardon?” It was her snootiest royal tone. He decided not to tell her how much it turned him on. If he did, she’d probably never use it again, just to be perverse.

  “You’re not going up in a hot air balloon,” he said instead.

  “And you would be the one making that decision?” she asked in a too-gentle tone.

  “I would,” he confirmed. “You’re five months pregnant. They probably wouldn’t take you anyway. Besides, you can’t drink champagne until after the baby’s born.”

  When she suddenly shoved her chair back from the table and stood, he was caught off-guard. “I don’t take orders from you,” she said through her teeth, both hands flat on the table. “What I do with my body and my baby is my affair and no one else’s.” And she spun on her heel and began to stomp out of the restaurant.

  Rafe jumped to his feet. He fished money from his clip and tossed more than enough on the table to cover their meal, then surged through the tables after her.

  “Go get her, buddy!” shouted some delighted onlooker from behind him.

  She hadn’t reached the door when he caught up to her. He didn’t give her a chance to register his presence when he took her elbow and half-turned her, then swung her into his arms and began to stalk out of the eatery. Scattered clapping and scandalized laughter followed them as he carried her into the blinding midday sun. His damn sunglasses were in his shirt pocket and he couldn’t get to them without setting her down, which steamed him even more.

  Elizabeth was squirming and struggling. “You Neanderthal! I hated this the last time you did it! Put me down immediately.”

  “Not until you promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” he said, grimly quelling her struggles.

  “Stupider than sleeping with you, you mean? That would be hard to top. That was definitely the stupidest move I ever made,” she said in a bitter tone.

  He set her down beside the car then, crowding her with his body to keep her from getting away as he fished his keys from his pocket. “You weren’t complaining at the time,” he reminded her. He yanked open her door. “Get in.”

  “No. I don’t wish to ride with you.” She folded her arms.

  Rafe leaned very, very close. “Either you get in the car or you’re going to be the first pregnant woman ever to get turned over a man’s knee in this parking lot.”

  She glared at him.

  He stared at her with stony implacability.

  Then she turned her back on him, sliding gracefully into the passenger seat. As he slammed the door and came around to the driver’s side, she said, “You don’t know that.”

  “What?” he barked, still furious and wondering what in the hell she was talking about.

  “You don’t know if I would have been the first pregnant woman to get her bum smacked in this lot.”

  She wasn’t going to make him smile. But he could feel the anger draining away. “No, but I’d be willi
ng to bet on it,” he said grudgingly.

  There was a silence that lasted until he had pulled out of the lot and wound his way through the streets back to the freeway.

  “Look,” he said, wondering why in hell he felt compelled to explain himself. “I wasn’t trying to give you orders. I was concerned for your safety.”

  “You mean you were concerned for the baby’s safety,” she said quietly.

  “No, that is not what I meant,” he said. “Could you possibly quit taking exception to every word I utter? The baby is still an unknown, an abstract to me, although I know that to you it’s a very real presence by now. Yes, it’s important, but not as important as your safety.”

  “Because of your promise to my father.”

  He wanted to strangle her. “Fine. If that’s what you want to believe, then yes. I promised your father you’d be safe with me.” Another reason, far more accurate, tried to rear its head, but he ignored it. He was not going to let her get under his skin.

  Another silence. She was looking out her window, and she had to have realized he wasn’t headed for home by now, but she wouldn’t look at him or speak to him.

  Finally he said, “Would you like to drive out to Saguaro Lake? We could rent a canoe and paddle around the lake. It’s not hot air ballooning, but it’s pretty and peaceful.”

  She turned to face him then, and he could read surprise in her face. “That sounds lovely.”

  “But I’m not bringing champagne,” he warned.

  She gave him a small, smug smile. “I can’t stand the stuff. Never drink it.”

  He shook his head. “You were just trying to rattle my cage back there, weren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little,” she conceded. “May I apologize?”

  “Only if you’ll accept one from a Neanderthal.”

  She chuckled. “Done.”

  “Tomorrow, in Scottsdale,” he said, “they celebrate the Parada del Sol. I’ll take you to it if you like.”

  “Sol…sun? A festival for the sun?”

  “Yes. The sun and wonderful climate have been good to Phoenix. The locals figure a little appreciation is in order. Did you know it’s the ninth largest city in the nation?”