It stung that she wouldn’t even consider the proposal, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. No one really wanted to be tied to him for the long haul. “It’s not a bad package, though. It comes with dental.”
Amy laughed, the mood lightening. “The baby won’t have teeth for the foreseeable future.”
He took a breath, trying to release some of the tension that had built behind his breastbone. “How is the baby doing, by the way?”
She looked down at her bump. “By all accounts, everything is proceeding according to plan.”
“I’m sure you’ve had a million appointments.”
“Oh, about...five, I’d say. The last one before I left was the anatomy ultrasound.”
“Anatomy ultrasound?” This sounded worrying—did her doctor think there was a problem?
“It’s totally routine.” Amy looked back at him through her eyelashes. “They take a look to make sure everything’s developing correctly. And sometimes, if the baby cooperates, they can tell you the sex.”
Now Artur’s heart threatened to leap out of his chest. “Well? Did that baby of ours cooperate?”
From nowhere, tears gathered in the corners of Amy’s eyes, but still she laughed. “Do you really want to know?”
“Oh, I think so.” His tone was casual, but Artur had never wanted to know anything as much as he wanted to know this. He couldn’t even explain why.
“It’s a girl,” she said, and a smile like a sunrise broke over Amy’s face. She sat up again, brushing at the corners of her eyes with subtle flicks. “Anyway, I bet she’s as excited to see the country as I am.”
“I hope you like it.” The words came heavily from his throat. “It might not seem like it, but I’m very proud of what we have to offer in Stolvenia.”
“You never know,” Amy said. “You might still find a woman out there who really strikes your fancy.”
You strike my fancy, Artur thought, but words stayed silent on the tip of his tongue.
“I doubt it,” he said with a laugh that sounded genuine to him but didn’t feel real in the slightest. “But I’ll still go on the nationwide tour. You couldn’t keep me in the palace if finding me a bride is what’s on the agenda.”
6
Sasha bustled around the room, taking out one top after another, holding them each up for Amy’s approval.
“Yes to the blue, no to the peach.” Where had she gotten the peach top, anyway? Amy couldn’t remember. It was late, almost ten, and her eyes burned. Sasha had wanted to take care of the packing herself, but Amy didn’t want to get out into the middle of Stolvenia and find that she didn’t like any of the clothing combinations that had come with her. But as the suitcase filled, something else nagged at her mind.
“That should be plenty, don’t you think?” The two women peered down at Amy’s suitcase, then Sasha gave a satisfied nod and flipped the cover shut. They’d be on the road for three weeks, which meant that Amy had to pack fairly heavily, but she’d tried to keep it pared down as much as possible. The last thing Artur needed was to have their entourage photographed dragging in ten suitcases for the publicist.
“I’ll get my toiletries together. Then I think we’re good to go.”
“I’ll be off then, Ms. Branch.”
“Amy,” she told Sasha with a grin. “If it’s a protocol thing—”
“We have to follow lots of protocols in the royal household, and it’s an honor.” Sasha’s eyes twinkled when she said this.
“In here, at least, call me Amy.”
“Goodnight, Amy. Let me know in the morning if there’s anything else you’ve decided to bring.”
The morning. They hadn’t scheduled too many meetings for the next day, since planning for the trip was mostly done, to Amy’s enormous relief.
Planning might have been a large part of Amy’s job, but it was still exhausting nonetheless.
Despite the enormous yawn that escaped her, she lingered in the main room of her suite a little longer. In the privacy of her thoughts, it was easier to admit that she was hoping Artur might knock on the door.
The conversation the past week had seemed so...charged. Not just the proposal, but the discussion of love. Maybe she wasn’t in love with him, but something in her core lit up at the sight of him. His gaze on her felt warm and precious somehow.
Amy brushed her hands over the slight curve of her belly. It could be the hormones making her feel a little giddy whenever he walked in the room.
“You’re tired,” she said out loud to herself. “Go to bed.”
As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out. The dreams came on fast and furious—Artur reaching back for her in a field of flowers, stretching out on the grass beneath him, his hand on her belly—
The alarm burst into a final and pleasant dream after what seemed like no time at all, and Amy jolted upright in bed, slapping at her phone until the sound stopped.
Artur, Artur, Artur. He’d been in her head all night.
Amy threw her legs over the side of the bed and headed for the shower. Once she was clean, with fresh makeup and her hair in a twist at the back of her head, she went out to look for something to wear.
There were no official meetings today with the large group, so Amy pulled her favorite pair of jeans from the drawer. The drawers themselves looked a little empty after the packing spree. Good thing she’d left herself these. It had been a little while since she’d worn them, and she looked forward to working in complete comfort today.
Right up until the moment when the zipper stuck.
“Oh, come on.” She had half her attention on the drawer in front of her, mentally sorting through the remaining tops, and she tugged harder at the stubborn zipper. It still didn’t give. She pulled it down to the very bottom of the track and tried again. It wouldn’t move more than an inch.
Amy moved in front of the mirror and looked at the offending zipper.
Oh crap.
It wasn’t the zipper—it was her. Her belly was finally in the way. They were her loosest, most forgiving jeans—the ones with the very most stretch—but they had reached their limit.
Amy tugged the jeans back down her legs, noticing only now that they had seemed a little tight when she’d pulled them up. She’d meant to go shopping. In the rush of the planning, she’d completely forgotten. And now what? She had a couple of skirts that fit. She’d bought those right before she left for Stolvenia. But the rest of them—oh no. She hadn’t even tried them on since touching down at the palace.
Why had her jeans decided to betray her like this overnight? This was not according to plan.
Why had her bump popped like this in only one night? This was not according to plan.
She paced in front of the mirror. Would any of the clothes in the suitcase fit her? The clothes she’d bought for the trip weren’t strictly maternity wear—mostly just clothes with extra give. The two or three maternity items she did have were in the laundry. Because of course they were.
That was how Sasha found her fifteen minutes later, pantsless and pacing, wearing her underwear and a black tank top.
“What is it, Ms. Branch?”
“None of my clothes fit.” She gestured to the jeans in a heap on the floor. “They’re too tight.”
Sasha was at the suitcase in an instant, opening it and pulling things out. “All right. Let’s solve this.”
“How are we going to solve this?”
“First things first: we need to figure out what you can wear.”
It didn’t take long.
Inside of twenty minutes, Amy and Sasha had gone through everything in the room and Sasha had brought Amy a robe to tie over her tank top.
Sasha looked at the clothes spread over the bed. “That leaves you...five outfits.”
“That’s not enough for a three-week trip. And I wouldn’t even count the yoga pants.” They’d been a last-minute addition to her suitcase on the off-chance they had a gym at the palace.
“Why the long
faces?” Amy whirled around at the sound of Artur’s voice to find him leaning against the doorway, looking every bit as hot as he had when she’d first seen him at the gala. His clothes fit. Boy, did they ever.
“I’m having a bit of a...wardrobe crisis.”
He strolled into the room. “What’s the crisis?”
Amy turned to the side, highlighting her bump. “None of the clothes fit.”
Artur laughed. “That’s not a crisis. That’s only a matter of logistics.”
“Oh? Are you a logistics expert now?” Amy kept her tone light, but her heart beat fast. Was it because of Artur’s presence in the room or the fact that they had very limited time to buy her an entire new wardrobe before leaving on their trip?
“I have many talents,” he said. Even Sasha turned pink at that and turned away. Artur cleared his throat and straightened up. “I can get you some things right away. And don’t worry about the bill.” He waved a hand in the air. “I’ll get it.”
“No, no.” Amy looked at the meager pile on the bed. “That’s too much. The public can’t know about our connection when the point of the tour is for you to meet other...citizens of Stolvenia. If you outfit me for the trip, that’ll look like—”
He stepped toward her and placed a kind hand on her shoulder. “How will anyone know who bought your clothes?” She breathed him in, her heart responding with a flutter to the smile spread across his face. “I’ll send out for a few things. All you need to do is meet me in my rooms for dinner.”
“Dinner?”
Sasha was making herself scarce. “Come by at eight. It’ll be dinner and a show.” Artur leaned closer until his breath brushed the shell of her ear. “Don’t be late.”
* * *
Nothing. The city around the palace had nothing.
After Artur left her room, Amy sat down to work. But she’d been too efficient. All the details for their departure were set, and she found herself with a yawning pocket of time before dinner at eight. So she’d gone into the city center to try and find some maternity clothes on her own.
Not a single store had anything worthwhile.
She ended up in a sleeveless black dress she’d brought with her that just barely still fit, walking to Artur’s rooms with her heart in her throat. It was only dinner, and yet...
The show.
What was the show going to be about?
It was times like this when she couldn’t get their night in New York City out of her head. And she needed to, because Amy’s top agenda item for the evening was to sell Artur on the idea of finding a girlfriend during the tour. Artur had firmly vetoed the idea of pre-arranged dates for him at every tour stop, but Amy had a few ideas up her sleeve for how to get around that.
It could be a long shot, given that he’d planned some kind of show for her, but she’d already hired a matchmaker and started vetting the women. Not that Artur needed to know that.
She knocked on the gleaming mahogany doors to Artur’s suite and took a deep breath.
The door opened.
“Hello, Ms. Branch.”
God, Artur was attractive.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then held out his arm and ushered her in.
“Hi,” she said, all her other words sticking in her throat.
One step into the room, and she was speechless.
Amy felt her mouth hanging open and snapped her lips shut, but she couldn’t help it. This was amazing.
She’d never seen Artur’s suite before, but she was reasonably sure that, before tonight, it hadn’t been a high-end boutique with racks of clothing and outfits already paired on mannequins. And all of it was maternity.
“I—how—”
“I have my ways,” Artur said with a delicious laugh. “Take all the time you need to shop.”
A woman stepped forward and Amy noticed her for the first time. “I’m Josia, your stylist. Is there anything you were looking for in particular?”
“All of it,” Amy whispered. “But—” She tried to get ahold of herself. “Work clothes, mainly, but—”
“But you’re going to be in the public eye, on a goodwill tour. It can’t all be business suits.” Josia led her toward the first rack, and Amy was lost.
Artur sat in an overstuffed chair to the side, sipping a glass of wine and offering suggestions. “There’s a blue dress on the third rack that’s particularly striking.”
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “How do you know it’ll fit?”
“Everything here is your size.”
“How do you know—” She shook her head. “I don’t want to know how you know that.”
He grinned at her. “It’s all your style, too.”
How long was it before the stylist excused herself, pulling a rack filled with Amy’s newly selected wardrobe behind her? It would all be cleaned and packed while she was at dinner and ready to depart with her the next morning. “I’ll leave the rest for you in case you want to choose a few more items,” Josia said with a nod. “The dress is a perfect fit.” Amy had changed into the blue dress to try it on, and she was still wearing it.
Artur stood up from the chair and came to stand beside her. She looked up at him, heart leaping, face hot. “How did you know to do all this?” Her voice came out lower than she’d intended, more sultry. “Not just maternity clothes, but finding things in the styles I like, the colors I usually wear?”
He shrugged, a sly smile coming to his face. “I looked you up. After that night at the gala—” Desire flashed through his eyes. “I did some poking online to learn more about you. It wasn’t hard to find photos of you looking gorgeous. I gave them to the stylist for reference.” He leaned in, brushing another kiss against her cheek. “The dress, though—that was me. And it looks stunning.”
“…Thank you.” She reached behind her, but it was a stretch. “Could you unzip it for me? I’d hate to get any food on it.”
“Gladly.” But Artur didn’t turn her around to unzip the dress. He kissed her, his mouth hot and possessive on hers, one hand slipping easily around her waist.
The kiss deepened into something that had Amy’s body curving toward his...
...and the door opened behind them.
“Please excuse me,” Josia said, coming into the room at top speed. Artur stood up tall, the back of his hand at his lips. Josia stopped, but it was too late. The moment was over. “I just came back for—” She hustled to one of the racks and whipped a slip off of it. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
The woman rushed off again before Amy even had a chance to thank her for interrupting at exactly the right time.
Sleeping with Artur back in New York had been a mistake—but one she couldn’t regret since she’d already fallen in love with her baby. But sleeping with him again, in his country, where she’d come to rehabilitate his image, would be a disaster. No longer hungry for dinner, Amy excused herself and rushed out as well.
7
Artur hadn’t been to Castle Belinsky for years. In fact, the only memory he had of the place was a hazy one of attending the opening of the refurbished castle years ago with his family. It had survived the Second World War after several centuries standing alone near the border, and had been reopened as a tourist destination when he was—what, eight? He couldn’t have been more than ten.
He lifted his camera and looked through the lens, down at the misty landscape below. It was a rainy day and the fog hanging in the air lent a kind of magical feeling to the landscape. The castle itself was ancient and beautiful, and they stood on a balcony off what had once been the queen’s rooms, taking it all in.
Amy stood at the railing. For an instant, his mind colored over her understated maternity dress, replacing it with a gown fit for a queen—the kind she would have worn hundreds of years ago, when this castle was bustling with the kinds of activity his family would mirror years later.
She was gorgeous.
One step to his left, and he had the perfect shot: Amy in quarter pro
file, her lashes lowered as she looked at a map. It wasn’t even a map on her phone, but a paper map. From this angle he could see it all—her baby bump, the map, and her long lashes. Click.
She looked up at the sound of the shutter, and Artur’s heart squeezed. He’d only had one chance to get that photo, and then the opportunity was gone again. He felt an absurd relief that he’d taken the picture in time and lowered the camera to his side, taking a deep, calming breath.
A little smile quirked the corners of Amy’s lips, and then she waved to him. No—not to him, to someone behind him.
The woman approaching through the elegant space was Dina, a statuesque blonde with lips painted a vicious red. She came directly to Artur, inclining her head. “Your Royal Highness.” Her voice was a low curl that didn’t sound demure in the slightest. “I see you’ve had a chance to explore some of the most impressive rooms. I’d be delighted to give you a more...detailed tour.” She’d greeted them when they first came in, along with the rest of the welcoming committee. But now she was alone.
He had never been so aware of Amy’s presence before.
Artur slipped a polite smile over his face. “I’d love to know more about the castle. It has a fascinating history.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m sure the guide downstairs would be happy to provide one, wouldn’t he?”
She grinned and reached out a perfectly manicured hand to touch his shoulder. “The guide is for all the others. As you might know, Prince Artur, my family has acted as the stewards for this property for generations. No one could be a better guide.” She turned and lifted her arms, gesturing to the rooms. “I’m sure you know from the placard that we’re standing in the queen’s rooms.” Dina turned back, a sultry smile playing at her lips. “But what the placard won’t tell you is that one of the first queens who lived here had a rather scandalous lifestyle.” She went to one of the hangings next to the antique four-poster bed and lifted it. “This door—” And there was a door, blending in seamlessly with the paneling on the wall. “—provided her numerous lovers with a discreet way to come and go. Rumor has it that she had over twenty lovers.”
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