Laurie Paige – The Princess Is Pregnant! (страница 7)
Although the night often grew cool due to the sea breeze, she’d chosen a long summer dress of golden silk with satin leaves of deep green around the neckline and elbow-length sleeves and hem. He handed her a golden rose wrapped with ribbons of variegated green.
“Thank you. That was thoughtful.” She slipped the wrist corsage over her left hand, staring at it in confused wonder.
“I called and asked Candy about your outfit,” he explained.
An odd resentment flowed through her at the casual use of her maid’s name. Then it was gone as she recalled the whisper of her own name on his lips. Megan, he’d said in a husky murmur that magic night. Sweet selky.
At that moment, had she been such a creature, she would never have traded her human form for that of the sea mammal, although selkies supposedly yearned to return to their watery home.
She was brought back to the present when Jean-Paul crossed the carpet and lifted her hand to his lips. His kiss was brief and formal. But only for a moment, then he turned her hand and kissed her wrist. She gasped.
The maid gave a surprised exclamation, then quickly coughed to cover it. When Megan frowned her way, the girl smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in the tablecloth.
“You may serve the first course,” Megan said, sweeping past the earl and hearing the whisper of the silk against her thighs at the same instant she inhaled his scent, which was that of balsam cologne, shampoo and talc…and one she was thoroughly acquainted with.
She had to stop thinking like that!
“Please join me,” she invited, stopping at the table, which, set for two, seemed much too confining. However, they could hardly discuss their problems at the family table.
Besides, her mother was filling in at some royal function for the king this evening and the twins were out of the country, so only the princesses were at home. Megan didn’t want to share Jean-Paul with her sisters at present.
Thinking of the king, Megan wondered what important project had come up. Her father hadn’t been seen the past five days. Neither Megan nor her sisters knew what was up, which was not unusual; their father had left the raising of the children to his queen while he attended royal affairs.
On second thought, Meredith, who worked with the Royal Intelligence Institute, might know, but she hadn’t said.
Growing up in a palace, one learned to discern the faintest nuances of intrigue. Megan had discovered long ago that things were seldom as they seemed in a royal household and that personal matters always were last in priority. Her gaze went to her handsome guest.
“Deep thoughts?” Jean-Paul’s smile was mocking but not sarcastic or cruel. She’d never seen him act in a mean-spirited manner, a good trait in a father.
Quickly, before her unruly mind went off on another tangent, she sat and arranged her skirts while he took the chair opposite her. Candy served a chilled plum soup from fruit grown on the royal farm. Megan saw Jean-Paul’s eyes linger on the girl, a frown in the blue depths.
“That will be all for the evening, Candy,” Megan told the maid. “We’ll serve ourselves.”
With a confused bow, the young woman, recently turned eighteen, left the sitting room.
“Alone at last,” her guest murmured, his face relaxing into a pleased expression.
Startled at the laughter in his eyes, she managed a smile and picked up her spoon. The meal was consumed in near silence. She was glad she’d chosen only four courses, for she couldn’t come up with a topic of small talk, and he didn’t try.
After they finished the white chocolate mousse, they returned to the sitting area. He chose the sofa after she took a chair at right angles to it.
She poured him a cup of coffee, black with no sugar as she remembered from their week in Monte Carlo, then prepared her own with half milk and one spoon of sugar.
“What is your position on marriage?” he asked as soon as the formalities were complete.
The question shook her composure like a broadside hitting a sailing ship. “I don’t approve of arranged ones.”
A frown snapped a groove between his eyes. “Has one been proposed for you?”
The fury startled her. “No. Of course not. Meredith would be wed first.”
He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “Life as a royal is damned difficult. I suppose we would need to spend most of the year here. That wouldn’t be a problem while my father is alive. When I inherit, we’ll have to spend at least half the time at Silvershire.”
“This is absurd,” she began. He was planning where they would live while she hadn’t yet come to terms with a possible marriage.
His eyes met hers in a brilliant glance of blue fire. “You’ll like it there. We have the sea and the mountains just as you do here. I’ll show you my secret places.”
“Wait!” she cried softly. “You’re…this is going too fast. I haven’t told my parents yet.”
“I said I’d speak to your father. Do you think I’d let you take the heat alone?”
“That’s noble of you, but as you noted, there’s no need to rush into anything.”
“Yet,” he added, his gaze sweeping over her. “You’re small. A child will show soon. Have you been ill in the mornings?”
She nodded, shy about admitting it. The fact seemed more intimate than the night they’d shared.
“And there is this,” he murmured, continuing his train of thought.
His move took her off guard as he gathered her into his arms, then easily lifted her to his lap. His lips touched her cheek, then followed a line down to her mouth when she dared look at him.
“I should reprimand you,” she told him sternly, but the scolding was for herself, for wanting his kiss.
“Are you going to?” he asked, not pausing in the light skimming touches of his lips on hers.
“No. I’m as wicked as you.”
He stopped, then laughed. “I’ll have to get used to your honesty.”
She laid a hand on his chest inside his jacket. “Do you deal only with dishonest women?”
“Perhaps. Or only with those who are very practiced at dissembling.”
The cynical admission reminded her that his life had been spent in the public eye much as hers had. Another bond, she thought and wondered how many more might be formed between them…and if that was good or bad for the heart.
He stroked her arms through the thin silk. “I’ve missed the taste of you. One night wasn’t enough.”
“How many would be?”
Raising his head, he studied her with a certain tinge of hostility in his gaze. “Where did that come from?”
She met his eyes levelly. “You. You’ve lived a liberal existence. Would one woman please you?”
He deftly rose and set her on her feet. “Perhaps. If she is the right woman.” His eyes pierced the thin ice that surrounded her heart. “And if I so choose.”
Megan managed not to flinch in the face of his cool statement of truth. She even smiled, because that magic night she’d let herself dream of their falling in love and sharing a true fairy-tale romance. But that was fantasy. Reality was having lunch and hearing her sisters speculate on the handsome Earl of Silvershire.
“Perhaps he seeks a bride,” Anastasia had suggested with irrepressible humor. “Which shall he choose—the brain, the nun or the jock?”
They had mocked the news media by choosing nicknames among themselves, a secret bit of foolishness for their own amusement. Owen was referred to as the cowboy and Dylan was the captain due to his fascination with the sea and pirates. Only among the royal five did they use these names.
Megan sighed. At lunch, a desire to confide all to her sisters had nearly overwhelmed her. However, first she must speak with her father. No. First she would speak to her mother. The queen would know what to do.
Jean-Paul’s expression softened fractionally. “It has always been my intention to be true to my wife. Is that your only worry?” he demanded imperiously.
She ignored the question. “My sisters wondered if you came seeking a bride.”
“Did you tell them that choice was made?”
“Forced, you mean.” Her shoulders slumped. “How could we have been so foolish?”
She meant it as a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway. “What mortal can resist a selky?”
He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. For a long second those icy blue eyes delved into hers, making her hot instead of cold.
“An alliance between us would work out well.” He paused as if in deep thought. “If you don’t want the baby, I will take it. My mother would love to have a grandchild to spoil.”
“I would never give up my child!”
His manner became frigid. “Neither would I. We may have behaved foolishly, but the little one had no part in that. We must do what is best for his or her future.” He released her and walked toward the door. “Think upon that.”
She was speechless as he left her apartment. He wanted the child and thought she didn’t?
Wrapping her arms across herself, she contemplated the future. A child, she mused in wonder. A child that came from a magical night. And she knew who the selky had been in that wonderful coming together…
Queen Marissa turned her head at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Oh,” she said softly, surprised.