“Not anytime soon,” Nicholas replied, kissing her temple with loving affection, “for you are in no condition to travel.”
She felt a warm glow move through her and laid a hand on her belly. “But I will be eventually,” she replied. “And then we will have a child who will require his or her proper presentation to a king and a queen.”
Alexandra’s letters had been frequent and lengthy. She reminded Véronique constantly of how eager she was for their son—the heir to the throne—to meet his new cousin. “What wonderful playmates they will be,” Alexandra had written in the letter Véronique received just the other day.
According to Randolph, there had been more than a few social scandals to overshadow Nicholas’s in the past few months, and the king felt it would soon be time for Nicholas to return and prove everyone wrong about their unfair judgments—with clear evidence of a happy marriage, and Nicholas’s absolute devotion to his beautiful wife.
“Perhaps we could spend half the year here,” Nicholas said, “and the other half there.”
“That would be quite an enjoyable way to live,” she replied, lifting her face to look up at him in the dappled shade of the oak tree.
As always, she was spellbound by his dark, arresting features, his strong chiseled jawline, and his tempting full lips.
He must have sensed her arousal, for he backed her up against the tree. “I don’t care how, or where, we live. As long as we are together…”
Then he kissed her tenderly—almost teasingly—which ignited her passions to a feverish pitch. They clung to each other like lovers who had been torn apart and only just reunited on that very day.
Every moment must be treasured, Véronique thought, as if it were the last.…
His kiss ventured lower to her neck and the tops of her breasts, sending an endless ripple of desire straight down to her toes. Then he sank to his knees and slowly kissed her belly. “You are my angel,” he whispered.
Just when she thought they might retire to the blanket and explore their passions more thoroughly, the sound of a carriage interrupted their reverie and Nicholas rose to his feet.
Peering around the side of the oak tree, he said, “It’s Gabrielle and Robert, and it looks like your parents are with them.”
Véronique turned and looked for herself. Indeed, her family was approaching in an open barouche. Gabrielle held baby Sarah in her arms. Véronique waved to them as she left the shade of the oak tree and approached the lane.
“Good afternoon!” Gabrielle called out. “We came to invite you both to dinner this evening. Perhaps we could play a few hands of cards.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Véronique replied while Nicholas opened the carriage door for her family.
When Gabrielle stepped out with her baby, Nicholas held out his arms. “May I?” he asked.
“Of course you may.” Gabrielle grinned at Véronique as she placed little Sarah into his strong and capable hands.
He rocked Sarah gently for a moment, then turned toward the oak tree and said, “Come with me, little angel. I want to show you some very fine workmanship, just over this way.”
He started off across the grass, while Véronique watched him with pounding, breathless love.
“He is so good with her,” Gabrielle said.
Véronique was on the verge of tears. This pregnancy made her so emotional sometimes.
“He is an excellent uncle,” Robert agreed as they all stood next to the barouche, watching Nicholas show Sarah the words and heart he had carved. She was just a newborn babe and probably couldn’t see much farther than the length of her uncle’s arm, but if she was like most women, she was probably floating on air, blissfully captivated by the mere sound of his voice.
“He is a fine husband,” Véronique’s mother said.
“Most definitely,” her father added. “I couldn’t imagine a better son-in-law. You chose well, dearest.”
Véronique sighed happily and linked her arm through her father’s. “Yes, I did.”
As she continued to watch Nicholas pace by the tree, bouncing gently at the knees to rock Sarah in his arms, she laid a hand on her belly and anticipated the day when he would hold their own child in his arms. It wouldn’t be long, now. A few more weeks, perhaps.
In that moment on the lane, like so many others since the day she’d married Nicholas, she was overcome by gratitude for all the gifts she had received in her life.
I am the luckiest woman on earth, she thought as she smiled appreciatively at her family. Then she walked back to the oak tree—to be with the man she loved.
Titles by Julianne MacLean
THE ROYAL TRILOGY
Be My Prince
Princess in Love
The Prince’s Bride
THE HIGHLANDER TRILOGY
Captured by the Highlander
Claimed by the Highlander
Seduced by the Highlander
About the Author
Julianne MacLean is a USA Today bestselling author with degrees in English Literature and Business Administration. She is a three-time RITA finalist, and has won numerous awards, including the Booksellers’ Best Award, the Book Buyer’s Best Award, and a Reviewers’ Choice Award from Romantic Times for Best Regency Historical of 2005. She lives in Nova Scotia with her husband and daughter, and she is a dedicated member of Romance Writers of Atlantic Canada.
Visit her website at www.juliannemaclean.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE PRINCE’S BRIDE
Copyright © 2013 by Julianne MacLean.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN: 9781466834538
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / May 2013
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
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