Сьюзен Мэллери – Pregnant!: Prince and Future...Dad? / Expecting! / Millionaire Cop & Mum-To-Be (страница 9)

He was watching her, leaning in, listening so patiently. So attentively. He was very good at that. At listening, one on one. He made a woman feel so…cherished and important. As if he was literally hanging on her every word.

It was very seductive.

And there it was, that word again. Seductive. Various forms of that word popped into her head with scary frequency when Finn Danelaw was near.

He said softly, ‘‘Are you finished?’’

As an undergraduate, Liv had taken Speech as her minor. She was a killer in debate; she did her homework and knew how to think on her feet. As a rule, she won. Often, like many high achievers, she’d dream of blowing it big time, of getting stuck debating a crack team on a subject of which she knew nothing, of trying to fake it, of failing miserably.

It was very strange. Back in her father’s chambers, she’d felt so strong and sure. She’d known herself to be in the right, known exactly what to say. She’d lined up her points and fired them off straight on target.

But now, here, alone with Finn…

She felt as though she’d somehow wandered into her own bad dream: the nightmare debate. She wasn’t prepared. He would triumph utterly, with patience and good humor. With understanding.

With sheer seductiveness.

She blinked. ‘‘I…uh, go ahead. What is it? Say what you have to say.’’

Somehow, he had captured her hand again. He kept doing that, taking her hand after she pulled it away. And then, for a while, she would let him hold it. Because it felt so good, so right, so natural, that he should.

And then she would realize what she was doing and pull it away.

Only to have him capture it once more.

She stared at him. He stared back, the beginnings of a smile on that mouth she couldn’t make herself forget she had kissed.

That mouth, God help her, she wouldn’t mind kissing again.

That mouth began to move. ‘‘Darling Liv…’’

She pulled her hand free. ‘‘There. Now. That.’’

‘‘What?’’ His voice was teasing. Gentle. In the background, the weather girl had finished. A man was talking now. The music on the radio droned on.

‘‘I…well, Finn. You shouldn’t call me that. I don’t want you to call me that.’’

‘‘What should I call you, if not by your name?’’

‘‘I don’t mean my name, you know I don’t. I mean ‘darling.’ I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t call me darling.’’

He considered for a moment, his head tipped slightly to the side. And then he caught her hand again. They both stared downward, at his hand around hers. His skin was so warm. His fingers were long, the pads smooth, but callused at the inner joints—the hands of a man who rode. He had a spectacular seat on a horse.

And those hands…oh, they felt delicious against her skin.

She remembered, in a vivid flash, the other night. Those hands rubbing in the hollow of her back, brushing over her belly, sliding down into the secret wetness between her open thighs…

She looked up. ‘‘Please. This is disorienting.’’

‘‘All right,’’ he said, as if he had seen what was going through her mind and had decided to take pity on her. He let go of her hand. The minute he did, she found herself wishing he hadn’t.

Oh, she was thinking. This is bad, bad, bad….

He began to speak in a half whisper. ‘‘As to your plans for your education and future career, I don’t see a problem.’’ How did he do that, manage a tone both reasonable and intimate at the same time? ‘‘I’m sure you’ll get to all that. In good time. But right now, you’re having a baby. My baby.’’

She couldn’t let that pass. ‘‘But I’m not—’’

He raised a hand. ‘‘I believe I’m the one speaking now.’’

She pressed her lips together and nodded. ‘‘Go on.’’

‘‘Thank you.’’ His brows drew together. He looked so serious, so very concerned. ‘‘I want you to know that I do regret having put you in this position. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have used more care. But now that it has happened, well, you see, this is Gullandria. It’s a terrible thing to be born a bastard here. Perhaps you’ve spoken to your sister, Princess Elli, on the subject….’’

She didn’t care how serious and concerned he looked. She didn’t like where he was headed. ‘‘Was that a question?’’

‘‘Well, have you?’’

Elli’s new husband, Hauk, had been born of unmarried parents. When he and Elli declared they would marry no matter what, Osrik had legitimized Hauk. Until then, Elli’s warrior had carried the shameful prefix of ‘‘fitz’’ before his name. His childhood, Elli had implied more than once to Liv, had been deeply stigmatized, a living hell.

‘‘Have you?’’ Finn asked yet again.

She gave him his answer, grudgingly. ‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘Then you have some idea,’’ Finn said, ‘‘of what it’s like to grow up a fitz in this country. No man would willingly do that to his own child.’’

A shiver ran beneath her skin—this time one that hadn’t a thing to do with sex. He looked so determined. She never would have imagined Finn Danelaw would be determined about anything.

The first time she saw him—it would be exactly a week ago tonight—he had been dancing. With a beautiful woman, Lady Something-Or-Other. Liv couldn’t recall her name at the moment. The lady had looked up at him dreamily as she whirled in his arms. Liv could have sworn that the woman’s feet had never once touched the ballroom floor.

An hour later, Liv was the one in his arms. They danced several dances. And they talked—flirtatious talk. As a rule, Liv Thorson didn’t flirt. What was the point of it? If she liked a man, they had things that mattered to talk about: politics, corruption in big business, recent Supreme Court decisions and how they would impact the practice of law in courtrooms all over America.

Flirting, as far as she was concerned, was a little silly. Definitely lightweight. Fine for other women, if that was how they chose to spend their time.

But with Finn…

Well, somehow, he made flirting feel exciting and fun, not a waste of time at all. When Finn Danelaw flirted, it was the next thing to an art form.

She’d asked—flirtatiously—if a prince had to work for a living.

He’d chuckled. ‘‘Depends on the prince.’’

‘‘Well, you, for example.’’

‘‘If I did work, I would never admit it while dancing with you.’’

Brit had danced with him later. And much later, when the sisters were alone in their rooms, they’d agreed he was a total charmer, killer handsome, yum-yum and all of that. Eye candy. Ear candy. Easy on the senses all the way around.

But someone to be taken seriously? Someone who would ever be very determined about anything?

Uh-uh. No way.

Somehow, he had managed to take possession of her hand again. His thumb slid very gently back and forth, caressing the cove of her palm, creating lovely ripples of sensation, making her think of the other night when he had—

Liv cut off the dangerous thought before it could go where her thoughts had no right at all to be wandering. She reclaimed her hand. Where were they?

Oh, yes. On the subject of growing up a fitz, which was a terrible thing. In Gullandria. ‘‘But Finn, I don’t live in Gullandria. I’m an American and in America there are lots of happy children raised in single-parent homes. Now, I’m not saying it’s usually the best choice for a woman to bring up her baby on her own. But there are times when it can’t be helped.’’

He was doing it again, leaning in close, listening as if her voice was the only thing that mattered in the world. More men should listen like that….

She drew herself up. ‘‘And you know, we’re getting way ahead of ourselves here. As I keep trying to remind everyone, we can’t be sure I’m pregnant. Yes, I’ve shown the family signs. But what is that? Superstitious nonsense, really. I will not start stewing over what to do about being pregnant until I’ve taken a nice, safe, dependable home test and know for a fact I’ve got something to stew about. And, well, I can’t take a home test for a while yet.’’

He asked, a look of great interest on his wonderful, sensitive face, ‘‘How long is a ‘while’?’’

‘‘Well, I’m not sure. I’ve never taken one—and I doubt I’ll be taking one anytime soon.’’

One corner of his mouth quirked up—in amusement, or maybe in a sort of gentle impatience. ‘‘But if you find you do have to take one…’’

‘‘I would guess a couple of weeks, at least. Maybe more.’’

‘‘A couple of weeks.’’ He said the words so thoughtfully. Imagine that. Finn Danelaw, thoughtful. Too, too strange.

‘‘Yes,’’ she said, and wondered why it mattered.

A second later, she had her answer. His eyes lit up and his face became suddenly so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. ‘‘Then come with me. For two weeks. Until you know. Let me show you Balmarran, my family home. You’ll love it there, I know you will. You’ll meet my family—what there is of it, and we can—’’

She couldn’t let him continue. ‘‘No, Finn.’’

The music on the radio played on and the newscaster kept talking, but still, at that moment, the silence seemed deafening.