His Pregnant Princess (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

A
LYS
COULDN
’
T
BREATHE
.
This wasn’t random, and it wasn’t something she was doing on a whim, even though she was sure it must seem that way to Liam. Whom she had never so much as batted her eyes at before and was now propositioning, essentially naked, in her flimsy little bathrobe.

But it had all felt as if it was closing in, starting at the reception. Her future was on a collision course with the present and she was desperate to escape it. To push it back.

Because it had always felt as if there was time. It had felt as if it was okay. Liam was there, and as long as he was there, by her side, there was a chance for the longing she felt for him to be satisfied.

But there was no time now.

And she needed this. Needed a moment of pure, wild passion with a man she wanted, before a lifetime of duty with a man who made her feel nothing.

Right now, it was more important than anything. More important than being good. More important than doing her duty.

Right now, Liam was everything.

She put her hands—stupid, shaking, silly hands—at the belt that held her robe closed and started working at the knot, the slippery fabric difficult to grasp, considering how unsteady she was.

She let the belt drop. Let the robe open. Then she lowered her shoulders and let the robe slide from her body, down her arms, a pool of vanilla silk on the floor.

“I think this counts as me making the first move,” she said. “Don’t you?”

He was frozen, ice-blue eyes fixed on her, his jaw locked tight, a muscle twitching there. “I would say.”

And for one terrible moment she wondered if she’d misread him. If those glances that had lasted a little longer than were appropriate had been all about assessing potential threats. If those late-night conversations had been the pure indulgence of a lonely princess.

She felt anchorless. As if everything she’d come to believe in firmly just didn’t exist anymore. She was a job to Liam, after all. She was his charge. He was a thirty-four-year-old man with life experiences she simply didn’t have.

And she suddenly felt very naked and wondered what on earth she’d ever thought she might say that could interest him. She was probably nothing more than a silly spoiled girl to him. Nothing more than...

Then he crossed the room, that liquid grace on display, and pulled her into his arms. And...dropped his towel.

Oh, my
.

“Well,” she said, looking down to where her breasts were crushed up against his chest, pale skin against tan, “this went better than I expected.”

“Already?” he asked, leaning in, his breath fanning over her cheek. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

“But I think we got naked in record time.”

“Eightyears hardly feels like breaking any land-speed records to me,” he said.

“True. But...for the purposes of tonight it was...great timing.”

“Timing is everything.”

“I suppose. I mean, that’s the case with those shrimp-chewing photos anyway.”

He sifted his fingers through her hair, his eyes intent on hers. She could feel him, feel his erection hardening against her hip, and a little shock of nerves ran through her.

Yes, there was most certainly a gulf of experience between them. But he did know that. He’d known her since she was sixteen, well enough to know that she’d hardly been kissed before much less...

Well, this
.

“Yes. And if they are an example of that then your timing is superb.”

“Often,” she said.

Alys put her hand on his shoulder, then slid her fingertips down his arm. He was so hard. So masculine. So very different from her. She quite liked it.

“This,” she said, brushing her fingers against his, “can’t ever be more than tonight. It can never be more than sex. I assume you know that?”

He laughed and cupped her cheek. “Trying to let me down gently?”

“Only... It’s just that you’re my very dear friend and I don’t wish to compromise that with confusion.” Even as she said the words they felt stupid on her tongue. Heavy and completely nonsensical. As if they would come out of this unscathed. As if she would ever look at him the same way again.

But she would try. She would try.

“So it’s best to be honest, then?” he asked.

“Yes, I should think.”

“Then you should know that I have fantasized about this moment for much longer than I should have done. I have thought of you...how you would look, how your skin would feel against mine. What it would be like to kiss you...so many times there are paths worn in my mind to those thoughts. So that no matter what happens, they’re easy to get to. So that I can always find my way back to them. To you.”

She swallowed hard. “I think it’s past time you kissed me.”

He dipped his head, his mouth claiming hers, her tongue sliding against the seam of her lips, coaxing them open. Oh, she had never truly been kissed like this. Because this was Liam. The reason she needed this experience before marriage.

If it hadn’t been for him, it wouldn’t have mattered. She didn’t have a burning desire to experience sex in general, but she had a need—a fierce, gripping need—to be with him
.

He kissed her neck, his tongue sliding along her collarbone, down to her breast. He sucked her deep into his mouth and she arched against him, a hoarse sound escaping her lips. It was not at all dignified and, if captured on film, would be much more newsworthy than her eating shrimp. But she didn’t care. Nothing mattered but Liam’s lips on her skin. Liam’s body against hers.

She finally had him in her arms and she found now that she did, she never wanted to let him go. Frightening. Exhilarating.

He moved his hands over her curves as he explored her with his lips and tongue, his mouth hot on her neck, her breasts. She looked down at him, at the man who was more dear to her than any other person on earth, and her heart shook.

This was Liam. She’d had him as a protector. As a friend. Even, on occasion, playing the part of stern guardian. But this was Liam as the lover. The last piece of him. One she’d never been privileged enough to have before.

And as the pieces of him came together, it was like the pieces of herself came together, too. The princess, the woman, the lover, the friend.

She was more whole in that moment than she’d ever been before.

“Kiss me,” she said, even though that was what he was doing. But he understood what she meant. He pressed his lips to hers, the kiss deep and hard, as he pulled her against him and walked her backward to the bed.

He lowered her to it gently, his legs tangling with hers. His were rough with hair, a strange observation maybe, but all of her senses seemed heightened all of a sudden. The hardness and strength in his body made her aware of the delicate softness of her own.

He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding beneath her hand, which was trapped between them and flattened against his chest.

“Alys.” Her name was a prayer on his lips as he kissed his way down her body before hooking her legs over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on the most intimate part of her.

Her stomach tightened, everything in her tense with anticipation. It made her feel wicked. And sexy. To have that laser focus directed at her in such a wholly sexual way. To see Liam, so unshakable, so intense, looking at her as if she was, in that moment, his every dream come true. His every dirty dream, at least. But she would take it.

He lowered his head and slid his tongue over the place where she ached for him most, an arrow of sensation shooting through her and lodging low in her pelvis, the pleasure so sharp it was nearly pain. An empty, aching pain that seemed to build even as he drew her closer and closer to the brink.

She was missing him. She needed him. Inside her. Now.

“Please,” she said, the word a sob. “Liam, please.”

He rose up and captured her lips with his, settling between her thighs, the head of his arousal pressing into her slick entrance. She didn’t have time to tense or worry about pain. He slid in slowly, easily.

It didn’t hurt. It simply felt new, foreign. But wonderful.

Finally she was joined with him. Finally she had Liam.

He froze for a moment, just a moment, his eyes on hers, his expression unlike any she’d ever seen on that fierce face before. Tenderness. Concern. Awe.

He flexed his hips and she let her head fall back. He kissed her throat, her neck, her jaw as he moved inside her, building the pleasure in her, pushing her closer to the edge.

He moved his hand around, cupped her buttocks and pulled her up hard against him, helping her meet his thrusts, showing her what to do. She moved against him, following his urging, driving them both closer to the finish. Closer to satisfaction.

She clung to his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin as the tension in her reached a breaking point. He thrust into her one last time, freezing above her, a harsh groan on his lips, complete abandon on his face, and the tension snapped. Unraveling and blooming inside her. And she let go, falling endlessly, lost in a world of pleasure.

And when she landed, she was in Liam’s arms. The world around her was shattered, but he was there. And that was all that mattered.

He covered them both with a blanket, pulling her against him, his hand resting on her stomach. She felt so warm. So right.

Tonight, she was in his arms. Tonight she would have everything she’d always dreamed of. In the morning she would have to leave it behind. Get out of the warm bed she was sharing with him and face the cold, stark air. Alone.

But not tonight. Tonight was a fantasy. Tomorrow wasn’t allowed to intrude. Not yet.

CHAPTER FOUR

A
LYS
TRIED
TO
ignore the strange, dizzy feeling that assaulted her when she looked over the balcony and down to the garden below. She backed away from the balustrade, pushing down the pitch of nausea in her stomach as she went back into her room.

She felt horrible. The last month had been horrible.

She’d come home from the wedding in Alaska, and she’d barely set foot on her home soil when her father whisked her to his office to talk about firming up her engagement. Even though she’d been expecting it, it had been horrible. She’d still been able to feel Liam’s hands on her skin. The idea of marrying another man seemed impossible.

But then...how could she say no? And did it even matter who she was marrying when it would never be the man she loved? Why not Damien? He met all the requirements.

No, he would never be Liam, but no one would be. And Liam was absolutely not an option for marriage.

So she’d found herself agreeing to proceed. What had followed was a whirlwind of awful, staged dates so the public could get used to the idea.

But what made it truly awful was Liam’s watchful presence over the whole thing. He stood in the shadows, watching over their dinners. Watching as Damien made a very calculated move to kiss her hand when the press was present.

She felt as if she was being unfaithful. Which was silly in some ways because she and Liam had always known what their night together would be. They’d known it could never be permanent, or even a semipermanent relationship. Not when obligation prevented it.

The simple fact was that she was in line to take the throne, and she was expected—more than expected—to marry royalty. Liam was not. Moreover he’d never even said he wanted to marry her. Not even vaguely.

She remembered his divorce. She’d gone through it with him. Been a friend while he’d been dealing with the fallout of it. He’d never had kind things to say about marriage.

Still, the Damien-Liam thing was horrible. The prospect of marrying Damien was awful. The fact that the royal family was releasing an official announcement about her engagement to Damien this morning was even worse.

She intended to hide in her room until it blew over. So perhaps two or three years.

At least here, in her room, she didn’t have Liam lingering about. No need for him to guard her half so closely when they weren’t away from the palace.

She grabbed her computer tablet off her dresser and opened the case, making the hasty decision to commit the ultimate sin and look herself up on Google. She shouldn’t do that, she knew. It only turned up upsetting and unflattering comments and a million things she didn’t want to know people thought about her.

And pictures of her with her cheeks full of shrimp.

But she wanted to know if the story had broken yet.

The results were instantaneous and conclusive. The news of her engagement to Count Damien Rycroft was indeed world news.

She wanted to throw up. In fact...she was going to.

She ran into the bathroom and got to her knees just in time. She braced herself on the toilet bowl, wondering what the press would do with a photo op like this.

What a wreck. Of course, she couldn’t just blame the news story. She’d been feeling off for about four days. Emotional, too, but she couldn’t even blame PMS because she hadn’t started her...

Her mind went blank for a moment, truly, as though someone had come through with an eraser. And when it started again, it was filled with shouty, terrified words that she could hardly sift through.

She hadn’t thought of this. Which had to be denial. Because there was no other explanation for why she’d blocked out her missing period after years of regularity. A missed period that came after her first sexual experience.

Yes, denial was the only word for that.

There was the slight problem of how a princess who was currently hot news got ahold of a pregnancy test. She couldn’t exactly ask her bodyguard to take her to the chemist, all things considered.

There was a sharp knock on her bedroom door. “Ella?” she called, knowing her maid was due.

“Yes,” she called, coming in, the door closing behind her.

Alys stood up slowly and walked out into the bedroom. “I need a favor.”

Liam hadn’t been summoned by Alys...ever. He was usually around, but when she was at the palace he didn’t have to stay as close. So receiving a message on his phone saying that the princess was requesting his presence in her sitting room was a surprise.

One he wasn’t sure if he relished or resented.

Seeing her now, with her engagement to Damien hot news, when she was going on dates with the man and he had to stand by and watch, was a torture he could scarcely bear.

But there was nothing to be done. Protecting Alys was the most important thing. His feelings, his desire to put the other man’s teeth through the back of his head, were not relevant. He knew—he had always known—that there was no future with Alys, and yet he had taken her to bed.

It did no good to let emotion affect his work now. He hadn’t allowed his emotions for his own wife to distract him from doing the job of protecting the princess. It would be a heavy irony if being overly attached to her caused him to forsake her now.

And that was impossible. She would be higher profile in the year leading up to the wedding. A royal wedding was a worldwide event and the media coverage would be relentless. She would need him. And he couldn’t afford to let anything affect her safety.

He pushed open the door to her sitting room and stood, his hands behind his back, his posture straight, eyes on the wall behind her. “Princess Alys, you requested my presence?”

“Don’t bother with formality now, Liam—I’ve seen you naked. It’s laughable. Not your nudity but your attempt at distance. Please come in and sit.”

A rash of heat burned on the back of his neck, and he closed the door behind him. But he didn’t sit down.

“Sit,” she said again.

“As you have just pointed out, Alys, we’ve seen each other naked. Don’t try to get imperious with me now. It’s laughable.”

He looked at her for the first time and his stomach tightened. She was so beautiful. But she looked sad. Pale, with dark circles beneath her eyes.

“I have something to tell you,” she said. “Something that, I fear, changes things, rather a lot.”

“And that is?”

“Well, and this relates back to us having seen each other naked and then, in that state, getting into bed together and...well, you remember, don’t you?”

“I’m not likely to forget,” he said, the blood in his veins burning.

“Right. Well. It turns out there were consequences.”

And then, for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t decide if he was elated, angry or more scared than he’d ever been in his life. The possibilities hit him like a rain of bullets against a flak jacket.

“I’m pregnant.”

And just like that, the whole world changed. Everything around them looked the same, but everything inside him was shifted, upturned. Drawers inside him where he kept emotions locked up pulled open, the contents tugged out and spread all over.

Alys was pregnant with his child. And the situation was as impossible as it had ever been.