The Expectant Princess

by Stella Bagwell

  She took a deep breath and let it out. “Marcus, last night, well, it was wonderful of you to say you would help me. But frankly, there’s nothing you can do. Except maybe stand behind me when I do tell the family.”

  He glanced at her plate, which was nearly empty. “Are you finished? Would you like dessert?”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite. But a cup of decaffeinated coffee with a little cream would be nice.”

  He came around the table and helped her up from the chair.

  “I’ll go get the coffee and we’ll have it on the couch,” he told her.

  “Let me help you,” she offered.

  “No. You make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  He left the room and Dominique went over to a dark leather couch positioned directly in front of the small fireplace, a few feet away from the hearth. March nights were usually still cool in Edenbourg and tonight was no exception. The heat of the flames felt good against her bare arms and legs.

  She settled into the buttery soft cushion and closed her eyes. How wonderful it would be, she mused, to be cocooned safely away with Marcus. A place where the horror of King Michael’s accident or the scandal of her condition didn’t exist. Here in his apartment, she felt more at ease than she had in a long time. Marcus had that steadying effect on her. But she realized even Marcus couldn’t stop the disgrace she would soon be facing.

  “Dominique? Are you feeling all right?”

  Her eyes shot open to see Marcus standing over her with a cup and saucer in his hand, his expression full of concern.

  She quickly scooted to the edge of the cushion and accepted the coffee from him. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I was just relaxing. It’s so quiet and comfortable here.”

  With his own cup in hand, he eased down carefully beside her. “My apartment is a far cry from your suite of rooms in the castle,” he pointed out.

  She smiled with bland acceptance. “Yes. The castle is elaborate. But simple feels good to me.”

  “Back in the States you lived in an apartment on campus, didn’t you?”

  With a nod, she said, “At first it was quite a change from the austerity of the palace. But I quickly learned to love the hominess, the complete privacy I had in my little rooms.”

  His gold-brown eyes thoughtfully studied her face. “Then you liked the anonymity of living there and going to school under an assumed name.”

  After a careful sip of hot coffee, she said, “I loved the sense of freedom it gave me. But I didn’t like keeping a part of who I really was hidden from everyone. Holding back the fact that I was a princess of Edenbourg always made me feel, well, like a bit of an outsider. And now I have this other secret about the baby,” she went on helplessly. “It seems like I’m doomed to keep living with some sort of deception. And frankly, Marcus, it’s wearing me down.”

  “I’d already gathered that impression from you last night.”

  Her wan smile was full of resignation. “What is that old saying? We have to lie in the bed we make for ourselves? Well, I’m tired of sitting on the side of the mattress. I’m ready to lie down and take what’s coming to me. Whether that be good or bad.”

  She was a brave soul, Marcus thought. Another woman in her position would have probably already crumbled under the strain. Liza’s foundation had certainly cracked and she’d had a giant circle of family and friends around to support her through tragedy. So far Dominique had been facing her personal crisis all alone. He admired her strength and he was more determined than ever to see that no harmful thoughts or words were ever flung her way. She didn’t deserve them.

  He cleared his throat, then placed his cup and saucer on the low table in front of them. “I’ve been thinking about this whole thing with you and the baby, Dominique, and I believe I’ve come up with the perfect solution.”

  Her eyes widened with interest as he turned to face her. “I can’t imagine any solution being perfect for this situation I’m in. But please, tell me anyway.”

  His gaze settled on her lovely face and he felt a strange pressure begin to fill his chest.

  “I want you to marry me, Dominique. I haven’t forgotten that you are a member of the royal family and I’m only a commoner…but I believe your immediate problem supercedes all that. I want you to become my wife.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Married!” One hand lifted to a spot between her breasts. She wasn’t sure if her lungs were going to continue working. She couldn’t seem to get a breath in or out. “Did I hear you correctly, Marcus?”

  He could see that he had stunned her. Last night, when he’d made the decision to propose to her, he’d stunned himself. Yet he was more certain than ever that a marriage between them was the right thing to do. For her and himself.

  “You heard right.”

  Mindlessly, she placed her cup and saucer on the low table alongside his.

  “I—you’ve knocked the wind from me, Marcus. I—really don’t know what to say.”

  He smiled wryly. “When a woman is proposed to, she’s supposed to say yes,” he told her.

  A breathless laugh rushed past her lips. “But that’s when the proposal is—is traditional and the man doing the proposing is the right man.”

  His eyes narrowed to a guarded expression. “Are you saying I’m not the right man for you?”

  Oh Lord, he was the perfect man for her. Somehow she’d even understood that four years ago. She had even dreamed of how it might be to have Marcus propose to her. But that had only been the wishful dreams of a young woman in the first throes of budding love. She was older and wiser now. She knew there was nothing romantic about this proposal. And the very fact tore at her tender heart.

  “Marcus—this is—don’t be silly. You’re a wonderful man. The best. But that doesn’t mean—”

  Troubled by his watchful gaze, she rose from the couch and walked over to the fireplace. To her dismay he followed and took her gently by the shoulders. The warmth of his hovering body overwhelmed the heat of the flames.

  “Dominique,” he began, “you know that I’m not the sort of man who would ever say something of this magnitude if I didn’t truly mean it.”

  “Yes. I do realize that you are serious. I just don’t understand—”

  She broke off, her mind whirling with all sorts of implications. Why would Marcus offer to do such a thing for her? she wondered wildly. He was a dutiful man. But this was something entirely different. Had he stopped to consider what this would do to his job, his life?

  “It’s very easy to understand, Dominique. You are not just a pregnant young woman without a husband. You are a princess of Edenbourg. And though I don’t have royal blood running through my veins, I want to give you the shelter of my name and acknowledge that the child you are carrying is mine. The idea of you marrying a commoner for love would be accepted by the public much more readily than if they discovered you were an unwed mother.”

  She sucked in another shocked breath. “You—you would tell everyone that you fathered the baby?”

  He nodded solemnly and she immediately began to swing her head back and forth.

  “Marcus, such an admission from you would ruin your reputation, your credibility as king’s high counsel!”

  “A divorce didn’t ruin it,” he reasoned. “And becoming a father is a much more honorable thing in the public’s eyes. In my eyes, too,” he added.

  He was serious. A part of her wanted to dance and shout with happiness. The man she loved wanted her to be his wife. Yet her heart knew it wasn’t right for her. She needed and wanted more from him than his upright name and the protection it would lend her.

  “I wasn’t expecting anything like this from you, Marcus,” she murmured, her gaze sliding from his eyes to the faint cleft in his strong chin.

  “Clearly.”

  The need to touch him became too great to resist and she rested her palms against his chest. She could feel the thud, thud of his heart and the human
drumbeat seduced her senses in much the same way as his smile and the stroke of his fingers did along her skin.

  “I don’t know what to say, Marcus.”

  The corners of his mouth tilted upward and then one hand lifted to gently cup the side of her face. It was all Dominique could do to keep from closing her eyes and leaning into him.

  “I believe the word is yes,” he whispered.

  Three little letters connected together. So simple to say, she thought. But later, would she find it simple to live with a man whom she knew didn’t love her?

  Anguished by the picture in her head, she turned her back to him and drew in a ragged breath. “I can’t give you a definite answer tonight, Marcus. This is too important a decision to be making on the spur of the moment.”

  She sensed him moving closer and then his fingers were on the back of her neck, sliding intimately against the tender skin exposed by her upswept hair.

  “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that time is important. If we’re going to tell the public that I’m the father of your child, I don’t want you to be so pregnant that they’ll get the idea I had to be dragged to the altar.”

  Longing of a kind she’d never felt coiled in the pit of her stomach. “That’s another thing, Marcus. Except for coming home to Stanbury castle on the holidays, I’ve been living in the States. A baby can’t be made at that distance.”

  But it certainly could at this distance, she thought. The front of Marcus’s body had moved closer and was now pressed lightly against hers. And when he spoke his voice was a seduction all its own.

  “You were home for nearly two weeks this past Christmas,” he pointed out. “That’s ample time for us to have conceived a child together. And the timing would be just about perfect. Love at Christmas—a baby in September.”

  She groaned mentally at the picture he was painting. A love affair with Marcus! Many times when she was younger, she’d imagined herself in such a situation. Now he was asking her to pretend such a thing had really happened. It was all so ironic she didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry.

  “We didn’t really see each other at Christmas holiday. But no one really knows that. And the timing would work,” she meekly agreed as she found herself wanting to give in to the temptation of becoming Marcus Kent’s wife. But a marriage under such conditions would never work. She couldn’t allow him to seduce her into the notion.

  Quickly, before he made her lose all resistance, she stepped away from him. With her back still to him, she clasped her hands together in prayerful need.

  “I’ll—I’ll think about it, Marcus. And give you a definite answer…soon. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to the castle. I’m really rather wrung-out.”

  “I’ll drive you back in the car.”

  She turned to see him fetching her shawl from the closet. “No. Don’t bother with the car. I can walk. I’m not that exhausted.”

  He wrapped the thin piece of material around her upper shoulders. Dominique’s heartbeat sped up madly as his hands hovered just above her breasts.

  “I’ll walk back with you.”

  Without looking up at him, she nodded.

  He sighed. “Are you angry with me? Again?”

  She lifted her gaze to his and tried to smile, but the muscles in her face refused to display what her heart wasn’t feeling.

  Touching her hand to his cheek, she said, “I’ve never been angry with you, Marcus.”

  Only in love with you. Now and forever.

  “Dominique, what is the matter with you? Other than Marcus Kent?”

  From her seat on the balcony, Dominique glanced around to see her lady-in-waiting bearing down on her with a look of determination.

  “Please, Pru, I don’t want to have this discussion today,” she said wearily.

  “Who said anything about a discussion?” she retorted with an airy wave of her hand. “I came out here to drag you out of that chair. You’ve been sitting in the same spot for nearly two hours.”

  “I’ve been enjoying the sun. It’s a beautiful day,” she reasoned.

  “So it is,” Prudence agreed. “But there’s no book in your lap so you cannot even bother pretending to be reading. Each time I’ve glanced out here, the only thing I see you doing is sitting and brooding the afternoon away.”

  Dominique frowned at her. “I haven’t been brooding. I’ve been thinking. There’s a difference, you know.”

  “Deep concentration coupled with a dour frown equals brooding in my dictionary.”

  Dominique wasn’t sure what she’d been doing these past few hours or the past week for that matter. Since the night she’d had dinner with Marcus, her every waking moment was spent thinking about his proposal.

  He was waiting for her answer. All she had to do was say yes and the immediate problem of her advancing pregnancy would be solved. It would be simple, yet she knew marrying Marcus wouldn’t be right. Not when he didn’t love her. The marriage would be an imitation and the pretense would end up breaking her heart.

  “Oh, Pru, you’re worse than a mother hen,” Dominique said crossly. “Ever since I’ve come home for LeAnn’s christening you’ve accused me of not being myself. Well, there’s plenty of reasons—”

  Her words stopped as both women caught the sound of the telephone ringing from inside Dominique’s bedroom.

  “I’ll get it,” Prudence told her and hurried away to put a stop to the shrill noise.

  Dominique rose from her chair and stretched. She had been sitting too long. She needed to go for a walk and clear her head. Most of all, she needed to see Marcus and put an end to his marriage plan once and for all.

  With that thought in mind, she turned to head back into the castle and met Prudence rushing toward her.

  “Dominique, that was King Nicholas on the phone,” she quickly explained. “He wants you to meet with the rest of the family in the sitting room.”

  “When?” Dominique asked with mild interest.

  “Immediately.”

  She frowned. “What’s the rush? Did he explain—”

  “No,” Prudence interrupted. “But I could tell from his voice that something serious must be going on. He sounded grim.”

  Dominique felt a sinking feeling deep inside her and she sent up a swift, silent prayer. “It’s Father. They’ve heard something about King Michael!”

  She hurried past Prudence and into her bedroom. After jerking a brush through her long hair, she pushed her feet into a pair of black ballerina slippers. The full gauze skirt and cropped sweater she was wearing were far too casual for a family meeting, but she didn’t care. If this was news about her father she couldn’t hear it soon enough.

  Prudence left the suite with her and after a fairly mad dash to another wing of the castle, the two women found the family room already crowded.

  Immediately Dominique’s gaze zeroed in on Marcus, who was standing next to Nicholas at the head of the room, near the huge stone fireplace. Their dark heads were together, their expressions stern as they talked to each other and no one else.

  Rebecca, baby LeAnn and Isabel, along with her lady-in-waiting, Rowena Wilde, were all seated on a nearby couch and all, except the baby, looked anxious. Josephine was in her armchair. Her dress was crisp, the raspberry color a perfect foil against her brown hair, which was twisted into its usual chignon. The expression on her face was smooth, as though nothing dreadful was about to be announced. But then Dominique knew she couldn’t gauge her mother’s behavior against the average person’s.

  Across the room, Edward Stanbury was standing next to a floor-length window, his attention turned toward the view of the city. Nearby, Luke and Jake were sharing a brocade-covered settee. Jake’s young son, Sammy, was perched on his father’s knee. At the moment the child was quietly preoccupied with a small toy in his hands.

  Dominique took a seat in a vacant armchair near her mother. Prudence went to join the other women on the couch.

  “Mother, what is this
about?” Dominique asked in a lowered voice. “I’ve never seen Nicholas look so severe.”

  Josephine gave her daughter a small smile. “I don’t know, my dear. Your brother has so far only spoken with Marcus, and I have no idea what the two men are discussing.”

  Dominique started to ask her mother another question, but stopped as she noticed Marcus leaving her brother’s side and walking straight toward her.

  Without a word, he took a seat on the arm of her chair, then reached for her hand. Careful to keep the surprise from her face, she gave it to him. While inside she wondered what was motivating this sudden display of public affection. For as long as she’d known him, he’d never done such a blatant thing. She could only conclude that he was setting up a picture for their future wedding announcement. The thought made her feel even worse.

  “Marcus, why are we here?” she asked him. “Is this something about Father?”

  His fingers tightened on hers. “I think you should hear this from Nicholas. He’ll explain everything.”

  She looked at her brother just as he stepped to the center of the massive stone hearth. Instantly the voices around the room hushed and the hysterical thought ran through Dominique that this whole meeting was like a theatrical event. The lights were dimming and the curtains opening upon the first act. Her brother was acting as king of Edenbourg. Only this wasn’t a play. And the remaining cast and crew knew nothing of the plot.

  “My dear family and friends,” he began soberly, “I’ve called you all here this afternoon so that everyone will be privy to the news that was given to me only minutes ago.

  “As everyone is aware,” he went on, “the investigators have been waiting for the complete results of the autopsy performed on Herbert, King Michael’s beloved driver. This afternoon the results have been handed to me. And to be frank, they are—quite shocking.”

  Dominique glanced fearfully up at Marcus. He shook his head ever so slightly and tightened his hold on her hand.