The Expectant Princess

by Stella Bagwell

  Nicholas’s remark jolted Marcus. Far more than it should have. Yet he tried to keep any show of concern from his face as he asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Frankly, I don’t know. And neither does Isabel. At first we thought it was just grief over losing Father. But now—she doesn’t eat enough for a bird. She doesn’t leave the castle for any reason. Or have friends over. She stays cooped up in her rooms and doesn’t seem interested in anything. She’s pale and listless.”

  “What does the Queen think?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “You know Mother. She believes all of her children are too strong to crumble. She wouldn’t allow it.”

  “If Dominique is having a health problem, Queen Josephine might not be able to prevent her daughter from crumbling.”

  Nicholas threw up his hands, then let them fall back to the desktop. “Isabel asked her if she was having a health problem. Dominique nearly bit her head off. Since then Isabel has left her alone. And I can hardly blame her.”

  Marcus frowned thoughtfully. “That doesn’t sound like Dominique.”

  “No. That’s why I’m worried. And I was hoping you might help.”

  Marcus looked at the other man blankly. “Me? I can’t think of any way I could help.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “She’s always thought highly of you, Marcus. And since you’re not family, she might talk to you.”

  Marcus seriously doubted it. They’d not parted on the most comfortable note.

  “Have you discussed this with Prudence? The two women are close. Surely she must have a clue about what’s going on with her princess.”

  Nicholas picked up an inkpen and absently began to roll it between his palms. “As a matter of fact, Prudence came to me, worried that Dominique was physically ill.”

  “Grief can do that to a person,” Marcus replied thoughtfully, then with a brief shake of his head, added, “But I always thought Dominique was stronger than that.”

  “Now you sound like Mother.”

  Restlessly, Marcus left his comfortable chair and walked over to the ceiling-to-floor windows. Since he’d entered the office the sun had fallen well below the sea and lights flickered throughout the city and from the boats navigating the river. Yet even though he watched the twinkling colors, he wasn’t really seeing their beauty. Only Dominique’s.

  “I wasn’t trying to be blunt, just truthful. Your sister will pick herself up soon, once she’s sufficiently grieved over your father.” He looked over his shoulder at the other man. “Perhaps you should urge her to go back to the university and finish her studies. It would probably be for the best.”

  Once again Nicholas tossed up his hands. “Isabel has already tried. Dominique refuses to consider the idea.” He paused, then added on a hopeful note, “Prudence thinks you’re the only one who can reach her. And I agree. You’ve always had a special relationship with Dominique. She’ll listen to you.”

  Marcus kept his groan of frustration to himself, yet it was on his face when he turned away from the window and approached the king’s desk.

  “Just because Dominique had a childish crush on me years ago doesn’t mean—”

  “Marcus,” he quickly interrupted, “Rebecca tells me a woman never entirely forgets her first love. And I know you want what’s best for her. Talk to her, please.”

  Marcus didn’t waste his time explaining to King Nicholas that a crush and real love were two different things and that Dominique felt nothing for him now that she’d grown up. King Michael’s son was asking for his help and he could hardly refuse. Even though everything inside of him felt it would be a mistake to see Dominique in a private setting.

  “All right, Your Highness,” he finally acquiesced. “I’ll try to find out what’s bothering her. But don’t be disappointed if my luck isn’t any better than Isabel’s. Dominique is stubborn and independent like her father.”

  Smiling now, the king came around from behind the desk and slapped a grateful hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “You’re right, Marcus. She’s more like him than any of us and he’d be mad as hell if we didn’t take care of her.”

  Marcus tried to smile, but it felt as if the muscles in his face were contorted instead. “I’ll let you know something once I’ve spoken to her,” he promised.

  “Make it tonight, Marcus. And I’ll see you tomorrow morning after my meeting with the Swedish ambassador.”

  In her bedroom, Dominique smoothed her loose dress tightly down against her lower belly and studied the reflection of her silhouette in the cheval mirror. The baby was growing. Even if no one else could see it, she could. If luck was riding with her, she might continue to hide the truth for the next two or three weeks. But already she was about to enter her fourth month; she wasn’t going to stay slim and trim much longer.

  Dear God, she prayed, what was she going to do? How could she tell her family, especially her mother, that she’d fallen hook, line and sinker for a man who’d wanted nothing more from her than a few nights of sex! It was so shameful and humiliating.

  Josephine would sternly point out that she’d not been behaving like a lady. That she’d been thinking with her body and not her head. When in actuality she’d been thinking with neither. Her trusting little heart had gotten her into this mess by leading her to believe she’d loved Bryce and that he’d loved her. But Dominique knew, where her mother was concerned, there would be no excuses for her behavior. Love was not supposed to govern a person’s common sense or be put before one’s duty to family and country.

  With a groan of anguish she turned away from the mirror and headed out of the bedroom. She couldn’t keep holding up under this much mental strain. Between her missing father and the coming baby she was beginning to fear her mind was going to snap. She could eat very little and sleep came only in fretful snatches. Several times this past week she’d woken trembling with fear and moist with sweat. Sometimes the nightmares were fuzzy. Others were more clear. In all of them she was either searching for her father or in the terrible throes of labor with no one around to help bring her baby safely into the world.

  Desperate to stop her torturous thoughts, Dominique curled up on the end of the couch and turned on the television. She’d never been one to sit idly in front of the screen waiting to be entertained with sitcoms or movies. Normally she didn’t need that sort of diversion from everyday life. But lately nothing had been normal for her and tonight, for the first time since she’d been home, Prudence had left her to go on a date.

  News. Comedy. Mystery. The doorbell rang just as she was pressing through the channels with blurring speed. The sound startled her, making her drop the remote control at her feet.

  Prudence had her own key, she thought. Besides, it was too early for her lady-in-waiting to be back from her date. Isabel was gone for the evening, too, and Nicholas and Rebecca were probably in their own suite having dinner about now.

  The buzzer sounded again, longer this time, and Dominique decided she didn’t have much choice. She was going to have to answer the caller.

  The small foyer leading from the outside door and into the sitting room was small and dimly lit. Even though there was a peephole, Dominique had long ago quit trying to use it to see who was standing on the other side of the door. The guards would not let anyone into the castle without special clearance.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “Marcus.”

  Suddenly she was shaking and she didn’t know whether to be glad or mad or to even let him in at all. For the past week, she’d not heard one word from him. She had not seen him anywhere in the castle. He’d been deliberately avoiding her and the knowledge hurt her way too much to be healthy.

  “What do you want?” she asked through the door.

  “May I come in, Dominique?”

  She wanted to ask him why he was bothering to see her now. She wanted to tell him to go away and let her suffer in peace. She wanted to scream at him. But she couldn’t afford herself those childish luxuries. Not when she’d made
such an issue of being a grown-up woman.

  Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she opened the door and stepped back for him to enter. He did so quickly, with little more than a passing glance as he brushed past her and into the small foyer.

  Her eyes riveted on his broad back, Dominique shut the door. Then drawing in a bracing breath, she said coolly, “Please go on into the sitting room. Would you like tea or coffee?”

  “Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to bother the kitchen help at this late hour,” he replied.

  She followed him into the sitting room where one small table lamp was burning at the end of the couch. The only other light in the shadowy room was provided by the flickering television screen. Dominique decided to leave things that way. She didn’t want Marcus to be able to see her that closely. He might read things from her face. Or he might even notice the small bulge of her stomach. If he did and remarked on it, what would she do or say? she wondered wildly.

  Trying not to think of the worst, she took a seat on the couch and motioned for him to take a seat wherever he liked. As he eased his tall frame into a nearby armchair, she noticed tan khakis encased his long legs and a black polo shirt clung loosely to his muscular arms and chest. The casual clothes made him appear more relaxed. More like a man with personal things on his mind rather than political or diplomatic issues. She wondered where she fit in.

  “I know I should have called first,” he began, “but I was already in the castle and I took the chance that you were home.”

  She darted her eyes at the television screen rather than continue looking at him. The sight of him was too strong and attractive, too tempting for her frazzled emotions. “I’m surprised you bothered.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. She’d combed it earlier today, but it was messy now, tangling around her head with a mind of its own. But Marcus wasn’t here to look at her hair or at her in general. He wasn’t motivated by such simple things.

  “It means I’m wondering what’s brought you here tonight. I know you didn’t stop by just for a quick visit. Or you would have done that days ago.”

  To her horror her voice had developed a quiver and she bit down on her lip, terrified of the tears that usually followed such a warning.

  “I’ve been very busy.”

  The flimsy excuse was like a douse of petrol on smoldering ashes.

  She shot him a mocking look. “I’ll bet you practiced that line a lot when you were married. Obviously it didn’t work.”

  Dominique was totally horrified at the words that had just come out of her mouth. She didn’t know who had said them. It was like some other woman had taken over her senses.

  He didn’t say anything and after a moment Dominique shamefully buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. That was a horrible thing for me to say. I don’t know why I did,” she said, her voice muffled and broken by the fingers covering her mouth.

  Moments later she felt the weight of his body pressing down on the cushion next to her and then his hand was on her shoulder. Warm, comforting and totally irresistible.

  “Dominique,” he began softly, “I don’t want your apologies. I only want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing is wrong,” she said flatly.

  “I’m not blind. I can see you’re a mess. Talk to me.”

  His gentle, coaxing voice ripped at the defensive wall she’d thrown between them. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to see you like this.”

  “You don’t want to see me any way,” she retorted.

  He let out a heavy breath and she was acutely aware of his fingers tightening on her shoulder.

  “I think you know why I’ve stayed away,” he said solemnly.

  Her hands dropped and she lifted her head and stared at him with a mixture of hurt and wonder. “Yes, I believe I do know,” she whispered raggedly. “You can’t forget that I once had a crush on you. And you’re afraid I still want to shower you with that same adoration. The whole idea that I might still care for you is embarrassing. Especially when you look at me—”

  Dominique broke off in shock as Marcus took a grip on both her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Stop it, Dominique! You’re talking foolish! You don’t know what you’re saying!”

  The loss and strain she’d been under the past months had seemed to take hold of her, making her reckless and ready to lash out. Especially at him.

  “That day at the inn you made it perfectly clear that the idea of you and me together was—was abhorrent to you! Don’t try to deny it!”

  As he stared at her, his pale eyes took on a strange gleam that Dominique had never seen before, sending a cool shiver rippling down her spine.

  “Abhorrent!” he spat angrily. “I was right. You are still a child or you would understand why—” The gleam in his eyes instantly turned to a simmering flame and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and raspy. “Why I can’t be near you.”

  His last words were such a surprise her pink lips formed a silent O, her eyebrows drew together in a furrowed line. “What—”

  “What am I talking about? I’m talking about this, Dominique.”

  Not until he lowered his head toward hers did she realize what he was talking about. And by the time his hard lips had settled over hers, words no longer mattered.

  Chapter Six

  Kissing Marcus had often been a fantasy of Dominique’s. But this was the real thing and the feelings he was evoking in her couldn’t begin to match her imaginings of the past.

  She was being sucked into a maelstrom of sensations. She was drowning in the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of his hands sliding beneath her hair and curving around her neck.

  Resisting him never entered her mind as she instinctively leaned into him, slid her palms up the solid wall of his chest, then clamped her fingers onto his shoulders.

  Marcus reacted to her response by circling his arms around her back and pulling her deeper into his embrace. Her body melted against the heat of his, her lips parted in invitation.

  Blood throbbed in his temples as their tongues mated and Dominique’s moan of pleasure filled his head. Her lips were soft and giving and sweeter than anything Marcus had ever tasted. The musky and erotic scent of her skin enveloped his senses and sent his desire skyrocketing. He didn’t want to stop with her lips. He wanted to taste every inch of her. Feel every inch of her with his hands, his mind and his heart.

  The shocking thought was like a sobering blast of cold wind and he thrust her away from him even more quickly than he’d begun the embrace.

  Stunned and breathless, Dominique stared at him as she pressed two trembling fingers against her swollen lips.

  “Marcus?” she whispered.

  Regret mingled with the desire still lingering in his eyes and it was all she could do to keep from throwing herself against him and beg him not to stop, to make total and complete love to her.

  Raking both hands over his hair, Marcus drew in a ragged breath, but it wasn’t enough. He felt as though he’d run a mile at top speed. His heart was still racing madly. Even worse, desire still fired his loins.

  This was all wrong, he thought. He wasn’t supposed to be wanting this woman. Not this much. And not in this way. But God help him, he did. And he wondered what had happened to his honor and his decency, what it was about Dominique that made him forget everything. Especially who she was and his duty to the Stan-bury family.

  With a groan of anguish, he passed a hand over his face, then glanced at her. “Believe me, Dominique, I—that wasn’t planned.”

  She swallowed as emotions tightened her throat. He’d kissed her as though he really wanted her. If he said it meant nothing to him now, it would break what was left of her heart.

  “You didn’t have to tell me that, Marcus,” she said hoarsely.

  A long breath drained out of him. “I came here tonight because I was worried about you. Because I wanted
to help. But—” He broke off with a groan of self-disgust, then reached for both her hands.

  She gave them to him and her heart turned over as his warm fingers tightened intimately around hers. During the four years she’d been gone, Dominique had tried to tell herself that Marcus wasn’t her gallant knight. She’d tried to convince herself that he was just a man she’d found overly attractive and after a time he would become no more than a fond acquaintance to her.

  When she had met Bryce, she’d believed she’d put Marcus Kent out of her mind completely. But she’d been wrong about Bryce and wrong about Marcus, too. He was her gallant knight and she feared he always would be.

  “I know King Michael’s disappearance has shattered you, Dominique. I realize you’re feeling vulnerable right now and I would never take advantage of that fact,” he said, his voice raw but gentle. “Forgive me. Will you?”

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she was helpless to stop them. Twin drops rolled down her cheeks as her gaze desperately clung to his. “Oh, Marcus—there’s nothing to forgive. I kissed you as much as you kissed me. And—and anyway, I’m—”

  She couldn’t go on even though the words were clawing at her throat, begging to be released.

  His right hand lifted and gently curved around her shoulder. “You’re what? Dominique, if I’ve made you more upset, tell me. I want to help you.”

  Suddenly everything was too much for her. The touch of his hand, the tenderness in his eyes, the compassion in his voice. All these weeks she’d been so alone and terrified of an uncertain future. She had to share her fears with this man. She couldn’t bear them on her own any longer.

  With a little sob of anguish, she flung herself upon him and wept openly against his chest.

  Gripped with the need to take away her pain, Marcus held her tightly and murmured soothing words against her ear. His heart ached and he realized what he was feeling for this woman in his arms was something far more than protectiveness.