I groaned, trying not to remember how I’d written Agnes a poem that went along the lines of…
The grass is green
The sky is blue
Your face is like an angel
Please let me kiss you
Totally embarrassing. Especially after Agnes Grace showed all the other girls, and each day they all made kissy faces at me.
As if reading my mind, Nate made a kissy face at me too.
“Get out.”
He laughed as he rose to his feet. “Oh, Seb. Maybe you need to write Iliana a poem.”
“Get out!”
He headed toward the door, raising his voice up several degrees. “Cassia is great but California is sunny. The Green Dragon might not have been classy, but it was there that I impregnated your assy.”
My favorite paperweight flew past his head when he ducked just in time. He just laughed and waved his fingers. “Bye, lover boy.”
But I was smiling as my second favorite paperweight hit the closed door.
***
The following week, Iliana surprised me with a text saying that she was bringing lunch to me at one. Sure enough, just when my stomach was about to gurgle loud enough to alert the crisis response team, she breezed through my door pushing a cart filled with something that made my mouth water.
“Please tell me that’s beef and noodles.”
She lifted a domed lid. “Ta da.”
“Mmm… I…”
Shit. I’d almost said I love you.
I cleared my throat. “That looks wonderful.”
She winked. “A little birdie told me it was one of your favorites.”
“Smart little birdie.”
She seemed relieved.
It was strange. As much as we knew each other intimately, we were still getting to know the little things like this.
I followed her to the little table in the corner. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Anything involving pasta, so these noodles are perfect for me. But I also love anything seafood.” I wrinkled my nose and she lifted a brow. “You don’t?”
I scratched my chin. “Actually, I’m not completely sure. Seafood is highly discouraged for a royal because of the threat of food poisoning so I haven’t eaten enough of it to discover if I like it or not.”
She gaped at me. “Does… does… that mean I can’t eat it either?”
I gave her a sorry smile. “I’m afraid so.”
She tossed down the napkin she was holding and raised her chin. “That’s it. This marriage is off.”
I just stared at her, but before I could panic, she laughed and sat down at the table.
I laughed too, although I wasn’t feeling it. It was actually getting annoying at how big of a lunatic I was become about this small creature.
Without waiting for me, she tucked into the meal, and I smiled. It was good to see her eat. Although she was still officially in the first trimester, I could tell she was beginning to feel better more consistently.
Forcing myself to concentrate on the meal and the small talk she was making, I paused after she finished a sentence that sounded a lot like a cross-department road trip. Up north.
“Wait, what?” I asked, setting down my chopsticks.
Officially, Iliana was still on the books as an intern because she enjoyed working inside the department when her schedule allowed… but a trip?
“It’s a photo shoot road trip to some of the historical sites around the country in honor of the king’s thirtieth anniversary as ruler,” she said. “It was an idea that Thierry was kicking around with the public relations department and it sort of took root.”
I wasn’t trying to come across as instantly negative, but the thought of palace employees and staff members roaming the north countryside shooting promotional videos seemed like a really bad idea given the information Nate and I’d recently come across. And yet, we had no real proof we could cite, so trying to get Thierry to cancel might be a challenge.
“When?” Maybe by next year, things with Amur would have settled.
“Sometime next week,” she said, and my stomach dropped a few degrees.
“I think it’s a bad idea.”
She stopped chewing and frowned at me. Swallowed. “What’s a bad idea?”
I had to choose my words carefully. “Well, the whole plan is risky given the places you mentioned them wanting to shoot,” I began. “But you, specifically, going makes me really, really uneasy. You’re carrying my child, and the rumors are getting to the point where we’ll need to confirm it. And when we do, you become an even bigger target.”
Iliana frowned as she considered my words. “You mean the baby could be in danger?”
I didn’t want to scare her, but she needed to be aware of these things. “Yes. My wife and child are considered targets, and right now, you two are a package, so the burden falls directly on you.”
Even with the heavy weight of the words, she smiled a little. “Sorry. You said ‘wife’ and it made everything feel suddenly very real.”
I smiled and said it again, “Wife.”
She smiled bigger. “Knocked-up wife.”
I bobbed my eyebrows at her. “Even sexier.”
The strange thing was, it was true. While I would have thought I’d run screaming from the word… I kind of liked it.
Her Royal Highness Iliana, Duchess of Becktonas. My wife.
The mother of my child. Maybe children, if we were so lucky.
“So, you don’t want me to go with the team?”
I met her gaze, focusing my thoughts away from the image of Iliana with a baby at her breast. “Correct. I’d like to keep you safe in the palace.”
A stubborn look came over her face. “Even though you don’t know of any real threats? And you don’t know of any dates or times something bad could happen?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Correct. Evil people wanting to overthrow governments don’t exactly send out press releases for us to put on our calendars.”
“Will you be letting Thierry know all this?”
“Yes.”
She looked relieved. Did she really think I was a shitty enough person to let our staff face a danger I wouldn’t face myself?
“But just so you know, I can actually take care of myself. If you remember, I traveled extensively with my parents and we often ended up in not so safe countries.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “So as long as you don’t have to curtsey, you’ll be perfectly fine?”
Her mouth popped open, and she threw a napkin at me. “No fair. I was nervous.”
“Nervous in front of my uncle but you want me to believe that you have nerves of steel if faced with armed bad guys.” I leaned forward, growing serious again. “And speaking of bad guys, you need to go through anti-terrorism training.”
She didn’t even blink. “Okay. I can do that.”
I hid a smirk behind my hand. “You think?”
She lifted both brows. “Small and mighty, remember?”
I laughed. “You are definitely that, but anti-terrorism training is no joke. You’ll be randomly kidnapped by Cassian special forces and held prisoner for an undisclosed number of days.” When colored drained from her face, I went on. “It will feel real, it will sound real. You will be treated as if it is real.”
Her green eyes were huge. “Why?”
“Because of me, Iliana. Because of who I am. I’m sorry.”
She just stared at me, unblinking. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
Now, she’s going to run screaming. Now, she’s going to leave me.
Her gaze fell from my face and landed directly in her lap, where her fingers twisted together.
I’m losing her.
Panic hit me like a fist. Adrenaline surged while my mind looked for options to save myself from the hurt I was sure was heading my way.
“Okay.”
I blinked. Did she say okay?
She met my gaze. “I�
��ll do it. When?”
It took a moment for the adrenaline to drain away and the roar of my heartbeat in my ears to clear. “It will be a surprise attack. You won’t know. I won’t know.”
She shuddered. “It sounds scary.”
I nodded. “It is.” I forced myself to smile. “But the good thing is that you can defend yourself, small and mighty.”
The distraction worked because she grinned. “I’ll have you know that I’m really good at picking a lock.”
I was calling bullshit. And did.
With a toss of her shoulder, she reached up and into the twisty bun thing on her head and grabbed two bobby pins from her hair. “What will you give me when I break into your office with you sitting in it?”
“Whatever you want, Squeaks,” I said, earning another smile from her. “But you need to do it before my lunch is gone or the deal is off.”
A small but surprisingly sly smile lifted her lips. Fiddling with the hair pins, she bent one into a short-sided L-shape then straightened the other one.
“When we’re married, they’ll give you hair pins that can be used as daggers.”
Her eyes grew wide again. This time with excitement. “Really?”
“Um, no.”
She scowled at me, disappointed.
This new and sneaky Iliana was adorable. Small and mighty indeed.
Rising to her feet with an elegance that had me smiling, she fisted her tools and headed toward my office door.
“Iliana…”
She turned, a brow arched high. “Yes?”
“If you can’t do it, I want you on your knees later tonight.”
She grinned. “And if I do, I want you on your knees.”
I was still laughing in delight as she locked the door on my side, then exited and rattled the knob for good measure.
Grinning, I took a bite of my meal, listening to the scratches coming from the door. Curiously, I stood and walked over to it. To my amazement, in less than a minute, the damn thing swung open, a grinning Iliana on the other side.
Fucking. Adorable.
Taking her hand, I pulled her inside, closed and locked the door, and pressed her against the wood.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was breathless, but I suspected she already knew.
Going to my knees, I pushed her skirt up to her waist and shimmied her panties down her legs, leaving them to pool around one ankle. Lifting her leg over my shoulder, I grinned up at her before taking a long, slow, delicious lick.
“I, my dear Iliana, always pay my debts.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Iliana
“You look like a princess.”
I beamed at the little girl flouncing toward me, her sparkly gold gown rustling around her. “So do you,” I said, giving her a curtsey. Perfectly, I might add.
She twirled, her tongue sticking through the spot where her tooth was missing. “That’s because I am a princess.”
I made my eyes grow wide, and I thunked my forehead with my palm. “That’s right, I completely forgot.”
She grinned even bigger. “Did you forget that you’re a duchess?”
The very word sent butterflies through me. “Almost.”
“Three more weeks.” Penelope held up three fingers as if to make certain I got it. It wasn’t necessary. I was very aware of how quickly the days were passing.
I’d officially entered my second trimester, the time when most couples began to freely share their happy news, and it was decided that we’d soon put the rumors to rest. We’d hoped to wait until after the wedding, but the paparazzi was now officially on “baby bump” patrol, and although everything I wore was still picked apart microscopically, my stomach featured front and center in every story.
It was decided to put the gossip to rest and share the news in a press announcement following the Legacy Ball. I was glad. It wasn’t like people couldn’t do math. When the baby was born in February, they could use their fingers to determine when he or she was conceived.
I jumped as Seb came up behind me, his arms moving around me as he pulled me back into his chest, his hands moving down to my still flat stomach for just a moment. “I’ll be claiming my duchess in exactly twenty sleeps,” he murmured into my hair before kissing the top of my head and letting me go.
Oh, my. In a suit, Sebastianos looked dashing, but in a tux… he curled my toes.
“Hi, Sebby.”
Seb bowed to the little princess. “My queen.”
Penelope giggled and flounced around some more, her skirts flying in all directions. “I’m gold and Iliana is silver. Gold and silver. Silver and gold.” She started singing the Christmas song even though it was still only the first of September.
“You look dashing,” I told Seb, reaching up to straighten his bow tie.
He grinned, gracing me with his dimples. “This old thing? Just pulled it from the closet.”
That made me laugh. “Sounds like a serious case of first-world problems, Your Duke-ness.”
A page cleared his throat. “Pardon me, Your Highnesses, but the royal photographers have arrived.”
I smiled as Thierry swept into the room, looking dashing as ever, a lovely Marta on his heels. I was pleased to see them both.
The king arrived soon afterwards, and we posed for official pre-Legacy Ball portraits then took our places in line outside the heavy ballroom doors, waiting for our official announcements.
“If I forget to say it later,” Seb began, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “You are the most beautiful woman that ever existed, and I’m proud to have you on my arm tonight.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. Damn hormones.
“Thank you. I’m proud to be here.”
He turned to face me, taking my face in his hands. “Iliana… I—”
“Announcing Prince Sebastianos, Duke of Becktonas and Lady Iliana Costas.”
Sighing, Seb straightened and faced the doors as we waited for them to open, offering me his arm which I gratefully took. The palace had taken to calling me Lady Iliana in deference to my noble heritage, and the title still startled me more than a little.
Being called Prince Sebastianos just pissed Seb off, but with the upcoming wedding, King Demetrius had insisted the title be added, although his official title was still of duke. So unnecessarily complicated, in my opinion, but I didn’t have time to think of any of that.
Walking into a room as the center of attention and speculation was still so very new to me, but I smiled as naturally as I could, which was becoming less and less difficult as mine and Seb’s relationship continued to evolve and strengthen.
On the dais, we waited while Penelope and the king were announced, and then the king officially decreed that the ball could begin.
The whole drawn out process was exhausting.
Just let them dance, I wanted to yell. All the pomp and circumstance was tedious, but it was so time honored that I was sure it would never change.
I knew the ballroom was large. I’d seen it several times as an intern. But I had no idea it was so large that it could fit hundreds of people. I looked around… and a small orchestra.
It was magic. Sparkling lights, soothing music, and trays of champagne floating on the shoulders of well-dressed wait staff. We made our rounds through the crowds, shaking hands and smiling until I thought my jaw might very simply fall from my face.
When the dancing began, I grew more nervous, knowing we’d be expected to take a turn on the dancefloor and that all eyes would be on me. And most likely my belly.
The gown I wore was tight through the bodice but forgiving in the way the material draped across my abdomen. My stylist had just winked at me when he pulled it out. He knew my secret. He had to be told as he was already planning my wardrobe for the Christmas season.
“Is she or isn’t she?” he’d said, bobbing his eyebrows.
If I pooched my stomach out, I could imagine there was a child growing inside me. Otherwise, with the exception of my boob
s, I looked the same as I always had.
A server appeared to my left, carrying a tray of champagne. Seb took two and handed one to me. I looked at him wide-eyed as he handed it to me.
“Don’t worry, that tray is sparkling juice. Solely for you.”
I nodded to his glass. “And for you?”
He lifted the glass and I clinked mine against his. “In for a penny and all that.”
We drank, a smile on my lips the entire time. It was sweet. If I couldn’t drink, neither would he. At least not in my presence.
To my left, the conversation the king was having grew a bit heated, and I couldn’t help but to turn and listen in. It was about the growing tensions with Amur, and the king was assuring those around him that the situation was being closely monitored.
“All talk,” the king was saying to a man I recognized as the American ambassador. Ugh. I didn’t like the man, thinking his smug expression and condescending manners didn’t reflect my country in a positive light.
The ambassador whose last name was Phelps, I believed, tossed down the rest of his drink, and from the looks of him it wasn’t his first. “But how can you be sure? Now that you have an American treasure under your protection, I’d be pleased to offer you additional troops.”
American treasure?
When they both looked over at me, I got it and quickly looked away. They meant me. Little old me.
Ridiculous.
“Amur is still a theocracy and wise to pay attention,” Phelps was saying. His cheeks were redder than before, and he was sweating. I was quite certain he was buzzed now if not outright drunk. What an embarrassment.
“Absolutely,” King Demetrius said just before turning his attention to the woman beside him. She was the wife of one of his agriculture ministers from what I could remember and a pleasant enough woman.
Unfortunately for me, that left the ambassador in search of a new conversation partner, and his eyes darted around the room before resting squarely on me. My smile was as bland as I could make it, and I pretended to be incredibly interested in the flute of bubbling juice as he strode over to stand directly in front of me.
“So, my fellow American,” he began, taking my hand between his. “How are you holding up so far from home? Must be hard on you.”
Claiming My Duchess Page 24