As he and Eleni approached the doors to the ballroom, the music from the small orchestra set up in one corner quietened, palace staff who had been circulating with food and drink pausing. One of the palace officials announced them and soon he was in the middle of the ballroom in a crowd of well-wishers.
He turned on the charm automatically, listening with half an ear while the rest of his attention roved over the ballroom, scanning for...someone. And it took him at least a couple of seconds to realise that he was scanning the room for Calista.
Ridiculous. Why did he keep looking for her? She’d been his for one night and it had been good. Very good. But it was over now and soon he’d be officially engaged. He had to stop thinking of her.
The party proceeded with all the usual nonsense that so often accompanied a royal occasion and Xerxes tried to force his recalcitrant thoughts back to the present and not keep focusing on the past or on a woman he shouldn’t be thinking of when the woman who should be occupying his thought was standing right beside him.
He was in the middle of introducing Eleni to a couple of the staider Axian aristocrats, when one of his aides whispered discreetly in his ear, apologising for disturbing him at so important an occasion, but someone needed to speak with him urgently and could he spare a couple of minutes?
He couldn’t, not when he was expected to lead a formal dance with his new fiancée in approximately fifteen minutes, but he was getting tired of pretending to be ecstatically happy with the proceedings and wanted a distraction, so he excused himself and followed the aide out of the ballroom and onto the terrace.
Small groups of people clustered here and there, the lights above the guests sparkling off jewels and sequins, glittering just as brightly as the lights of the city below the palace. The night air was warm, carrying with it the promise of another long, hot Axian summer.
Xerxes frowned as he followed his aide to a darker corner of the terrace, out of sight of the main doors and the guests. He wasn’t concerned about his own safety, not here in the palace, but his curiosity was piqued. Who could be wanting to speak with him under cover of the shadows?
The aide stopped and bowed, withdrawing as a figure moved in the darkness near the parapet. ‘Thank you for meeting me, Your Highness,’ a familiar clear, sweet voice said.
And he felt it rush through him like a hot current, a burst of intense desire.
Calista.
She stepped out of the shadows and his heart seized in his chest. She wasn’t in uniform tonight, wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans, with a black jacket thrown over the top. Her hair was caught in a ponytail and there were dark circles under her eyes.
She was pale and looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.
He stared at her, unable to stop himself from examining her from head to foot, because for at least the past couple of months he hadn’t let himself look. He’d had to make sure his gaze coasted over her as if she were just another guard in his detail.
But she would never be that, not any more, and looking at her now made him feel like a thirsty man finally allowed to drink water after months in the desert. Except, though they might be in an apparently unobserved part of the terrace, there were always eyes around, especially tonight, for his engagement.
So he merely arched a brow. ‘Calista, isn’t it? Aren’t you supposed to be on duty tonight?’
Her amber gaze wavered, an expression he couldn’t identify flickering across her face and then vanishing. ‘Yes.’ Her voice had an edge to it. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Highness, but I...needed to speak with you urgently.’
A whisper of foreboding brushed over him. There weren’t many reasons for her to come directly to him. In fact, he couldn’t think of a single one, especially not one that would involve interrupting him during an important official occasion, not wearing her uniform or going through official channels.
He studied the pale cast to her cheeks and the circles under her eyes. He might have only spent one night with her, but he knew she wouldn’t interrupt him if it wasn’t important, not when she was such a stickler for protocol and authority.
No, whatever it was, this was serious. Serious enough that she’d come to him in secret, too. She didn’t want anyone to know...
‘What is this about?’
She glanced apprehensively over his shoulder to where the guests stood, the party going on just a few feet away. Music drifted out of the ballroom. Soon it would be time for him to dance with Eleni.
‘Can we go...elsewhere?’ Her hands were clenched at her sides and she radiated nervous tension.
Foreboding gripped him more tightly. Normally she was emotionless. Expressionless.
‘Where else do you suggest? This is the middle of my engagement party, after all. Not really the time for heart-to-heart chats.’
It was unfair of him to say that, because he knew she wasn’t here for anything as insignificant as a declaration of love or desire. Not when she’d ignored his existence as completely as he’d ignored hers. He’d wondered if he might run into difficulties with her, but he hadn’t needed to worry, as it turned out. She’d acted as though it had never happened. Looking through him as though he wasn’t there.
And you didn’t like that.
Ridiculous. It had made things significantly easier and he’d been glad of it.
‘I...’ She stopped and took another breath, her hands opening and then closing again. ‘I didn’t really want to tell you like this. But I thought you should know immediately.’
‘Know what?’
Calista’s eyes were very dark in the shadows, her face even paler. ‘I’m sorry, Your Highness, but... I’m p-pregnant.’
The prince had gone very still, like a figure carved from rock, his expression utterly unreadable.
Nausea twisted in Calista’s stomach, though that could have been nerves rather than related to the pregnancy. She hadn’t been feeling sick at all in the weeks leading up to this point, and there was no reason to now, not at this relatively ‘late stage’.
But then, wasn’t it any wonder she was feeling so ill? She’d only just come from the doctor’s and was still reeling from the shock of finding out that she didn’t have a virus or the flu. What she had was a classic case of pregnancy. And probably facing Xerxes now was a terrible mistake, but she couldn’t in good conscience wait. He had to know and the sooner the better.
Your timing is awful.
Yes, but then, the whole thing was awful and there was never going to be a good time. And she’d wanted to tell him before his engagement was announced so he could decide what he wanted to do about it. Not that she expected anything from him.
He was a prince and she was a guard and their reputations—
Oh, God...
Another wave of nausea churned uncomfortably in her stomach. Her mouth was dry, her heartbeat through the roof. Her fingers had gone cold and they were tingling and she had no idea why.
Xerxes stood there, impossibly handsome in his black-and-gold uniform, the roaring lion pin that denoted him Defender gleaming against the inky fabric. The uniform suited him, accentuating his height and the dark charisma that surrounded him. His beautifully carved face was expressionless, his eyes as shadowed as the night around them, no gleam of gold hidden in the depths this time.
Longing coiled helplessly through her, the longing she’d been fighting for weeks. The physical pull that dragged on her whenever he was around. The need inside her that ached for one more night, one more touch. Even a glance in her direction.
But he’d done exactly what he’d told her he would: he’d ignored her.
She’d tried to do the same. Had thought it would be easy. That she could put the armour of the soldier back on, find her discipline and her commitment once again, go back to being who she was before that night with him.
Yet it had been impossible. Her armour had crac
ks running through it, vulnerabilities she hadn’t noticed before, vulnerabilities that he’d put there when he’d stripped it from her. And it didn’t protect her any more, not the way it needed to, the way it had been doing for years before he’d shown up.
That terrible longing had worked its way through those cracks. The ache filled her soul whenever she thought of that night and the freedom she’d found in his arms. And no matter how hard she tried to patch those cracks, fix those holes, those forbidden emotions somehow found their way in all the same.
She didn’t understand why. She’d been so sure one night would be enough for her to indulge those inexplicable urges of hers, get them out of the way and over for good. That what they’d shared was physical only. So why she still felt these things, she had no idea.
You know how that ends.
The nausea inside her doubled and she had to fight to keep it down.
The prince lifted his other perfectly arched brow. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Surely he wasn’t going to make her say it again? Surely.
She searched his face for any sign of the man who’d held her in his arms, who’d kissed her passionately, taken her fiercely. Who’d told her that she was killing him...
But there was no sign of that man, only the imperious prince, looking at her as if she was merely something dirty he’d happened to get on his shoe.
She wanted to meet that look with her usual steel, to ignore the tangling emotions inside her. And once upon a time that had been easy. Once, she’d been able to just pretend they didn’t exist.
But now it was as if her ability to do so had been broken and she couldn’t do it.
Her throat closed up, her eyes prickling. And all she could think of was that this had been a mistake, an awful, awful mistake. He didn’t want to know that she was pregnant. Of course he wouldn’t. Why would he? She was merely some guard he’d slept with and here she was, at his engagement party of all things, telling him she was pregnant with his child.
She was lucky she hadn’t been thrown out on the street, though there was still time for that.
It was a warm evening but she felt cold and sick to her stomach. And when she opened her mouth to repeat herself, he only raised a hand, silencing her. Then he turned his head and someone in royal livery appeared at his elbow, the same staff member she’d pleaded with to get him to speak to the prince just before.
And then things happened very quickly.
Without a word, the aide took her arm and hustled her into the palace and she thought that she was indeed going to be thrown out on her ear. But they weren’t going in the direction of the main entrance or even the staff entrance. She was being led down various stone corridors and up a flight of stairs, towards the wing where the royal family lived instead.
Then, much to her shock, she was led into a small room that was warm and furnished with a couple of plush armchairs, a small fire burning in the grate.
‘Wait here, please,’ the aide said, not unkindly, then withdrew, leaving her alone in the room.
It was very quiet, no noise at all from the engagement party penetrating the thick stone walls.
Calista shivered. Why had she been taken here? What was Xerxes going to do? She shouldn’t have come. She’d been shocked and probably wasn’t thinking straight; she wasn’t thinking straight now either. Perhaps she should simply leave...
But she was cold and she needed a quiet moment to pull herself together, to find her usual control, so she moved over to the fire, holding out her hands to the flames, trying not to feel as if her world was slowly crumbling into dust around her.
For weeks she’d ignored the strange fatigue that had crept through her bones and the odd bouts of nausea that had come and gone seemingly at random. She’d thought she had a virus, that she’d been working too hard, training too much. Pregnancy had never entered her head, because it hadn’t seemed a possibility. She was on the pill and she didn’t get periods because she made sure she didn’t. And besides, she and Xerxes had used condoms as well for the rest of that night; the chances of a pill failure were very slim.
But apparently not impossible. The doctor had been very clear.
Calista began to pace before the fire, her thoughts going around and around in circles. She had no idea what to do or where to go from here. All her dreams of being appointed to the king’s guard were now ashes. And what was she going to tell her father? Oh, God, her father...
She stopped and gritted her teeth hard, fighting the despair sitting like ice in her stomach.
‘You did the right thing, Calista,’ he’d said, the night he’d told her mother to leave, that he never wanted to see her again. ‘And I’m glad you told me. You’re loyal. You’d never disappoint me the way your mother did.’
She’d been so full of rage after her mother had brushed past her without even saying goodbye, so angry at her mother’s betrayal, that right then and there she made the decision that she would never disappoint him. She would be loyal. And, most importantly of all, she’d never be her mother.
Her father had always wanted a son and so she’d become that son for him, the way she’d tried to be her mother’s beautiful daughter. With total commitment and determination, she’d worked her way up the ranks to palace guard, and she knew she’d done her father proud. That she was everything he’d wanted her to be.
Except now she’d failed him. She’d fallen into the same trap as her mother, letting her own wants and desires rule her, putting at risk everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.
Tears pricked her eyelids. She never cried, not since that day she’d lost her temper and burst into tears of rage in front of her comrades. What on earth was happening to her?
‘Come, now, soldier,’ a dark, rich male voice said. ‘It’s not that bad, is it?’
Calista looked up.
Xerxes had come into the room, shutting the door behind him, a tall, imposing presence, every inch of him royal.
She forced down her despair. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Sit,’ he ordered, nodding in the direction of one of the armchairs.
Her body was moving before she was even aware of it, going over to the chair he’d indicated and sitting down. Her legs just about gave out as she sat—another shock. She shouldn’t be going to pieces like this, surely?
Xerxes said nothing and she was about to speak when there was a discreet knock on the door. The prince opened it without a word and a palace staff member came in bearing a tray. The man put it down on the coffee table near her chair and then left as silently as he’d entered.
Calista blinked at the tray. A tall glass of iced water sat on it, along with another glass of orange juice, and a small plate full of artfully arranged fresh fruit.
‘Eat.’ Another order issued quietly as he came over to the armchair opposite hers and sat down.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she muttered.
‘Did you have any dinner tonight?’
No, she hadn’t had dinner. She’d lost any appetite she’d had after she’d seen the doctor.
‘Eat,’ Xerxes repeated and he must have correctly interpreted her mutinous expression because this time the edge of command was in it. ‘And while you eat, you’ll tell me exactly what our situation is.’
Our situation. Not hers. Ours.
Something kicked hard in her chest. ‘You’re assuming the baby is yours,’ she said flatly.
He let out a laugh that held no amusement. ‘I never considered otherwise.’
‘I could be lying to you.’
‘You’re not lying.’ He sounded so smug and certain her temper flared, making her want to kick him. ‘Do you even know how?’
Calista curled her fingers into her palms. ‘Don’t you want proof? You must get this all the time, women claiming they’re carrying your child.’
‘In the past there were
a few.’ His tone was dry. ‘But they were easily disproved. Contrary to what you might expect, I don’t have hundreds of bastard sons and daughters running around Europe.’
Her mouth was dry, her throat a desert. She didn’t want to be weak and give in, or take the food and drink he’d given her, though for what reason she didn’t know. Perhaps to prove to herself that she had some restraint, though that particular horse had long since bolted. But the glass of water at least looked very inviting and she couldn’t resist.
She leaned forward and picked up the glass, taking a sip. The water slid down her throat, cool and delicious.
‘And no,’ he went on, his voice just as cool as the water she was drinking. ‘I don’t require proof. I believe you.’
She hadn’t expected that. In fact, she had no idea what she’d expected. Thrown out on the street, ignored, punished...
You knew he wouldn’t do that.
But she didn’t know. She knew nothing about him other than that he was a selfish prince with a terrible reputation, who didn’t care about anything except his brother, and who growled when she kissed certain parts of him. That was the sum total of her knowledge.
He wasn’t selfish, not with you. He made you feel special. He set you free...
She forced those thoughts away, sipping on her water while her stomach growled helpfully. ‘The pill failed.’
‘Clearly.’ His tone was even drier.
‘I didn’t lie about that either. I was taking it and I—’
‘Again, I believe you. You’re nothing if not honest.’
Why did he make it sound as if that was a thing to be ashamed of?
She glanced at him, which was a mistake. Because he was staring intently at her, his gaze focused, the light from the fire glinting off the gold flecks buried in the darkness.
A thrill of heat went through her and she had to catch her breath.
‘So,’ he went on, not looking away, ‘how long have you known about this?
She could feel herself blushing, which was ridiculous because she never blushed. Ever. ‘Since tonight. I went to the doctor this afternoon because I’d been feeling tired and I’d put on some weight, which I normally don’t do.’
Promoted To His Princess (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Royal House of Axios, Book 1) Page 7