A Bride For The Playboy Prince: The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding. Sandra Marton
Читать онлайн книгу.
each other’s clothes. There was nothing but a simmering mistrust as Lisa stared into his unyielding blue eyes. ‘So what are you planning to do?’ she questioned. ‘Dramatically cut my funds? Or slowly bleed me dry so that you can force me into closure?’
‘I’m hoping it won’t come to that,’ he said. ‘My acquisition of your business was simply a back-up. An insurance policy, if you like, in case you proved to be stubborn as I anticipated, which is exactly what has happened. But I have no desire to be ruthless unless you make me, Lisa. I won’t interfere with your business if you return to Mardovia with me as my wife.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t do that, Luc,’ she breathed. ‘You know I can’t.’
‘Why not?’ His gazed bored into her. ‘Is it because I’m the wrong man? Are you holding out for Mr Right? Is that what this is all about?’
She gave a short laugh. ‘Mr Right is a fictional character created by women who still believe in fairy tales. And I don’t.’
‘Well, isn’t that just perfect, because neither do I. Which means that neither of us have any illusions which can be shattered.’
But his declaration gave Lisa little comfort. Her back was aching and her feet felt swollen. She walked into the tiny sitting room and slumped into one of the overstuffed armchairs without even bothering to put the light on. But Luc took control of this, too, following her and snapping on a lamp before drawing the curtains against the darkness outside. She found herself thinking that his servants must usually do this kind of thing for him and wondered what it must be like, to live his privileged life.
‘We don’t have to go through with a sham marriage,’ she said wearily. ‘I told you. We can do this the modern way and share custody. Lots of people do. And given all the wealth at your disposal, it will be easier for us to achieve than for most people.’ From somewhere she conjured up a hopeful smile. ‘I mean, it’s not like we’re going to be worried about whether we can afford to run two households, is it?’
But he didn’t respond to her feeble attempt at humour.
‘You’re missing the point,’ he said. ‘I have a duty to my people and the land I was born to rule. Mardovia’s stability has been threatened in the past and the principality was almost destroyed as a result. It cannot be allowed to happen again and I will not let it. This child is the future of my country—’
‘What? Even if it’s a girl?’
He went very still. ‘Do you know the sex of the baby?’ he questioned.
Lisa thought about lying. Of saying she was going to have a girl in the hope that the macho rules which seemed to define him would make him reconsider his demand that she marry him. But she couldn’t do that. It would be a cheap move to use their baby as a pawn in their battle, and she sensed it wouldn’t make any difference.
She shook her head. ‘No. I told the sonographer I didn’t want to know. I didn’t like the idea of going through a long labour without even the promise of a surprise at the end. A bit like getting your Christmas presents and discovering that nobody had bothered to wrap them.’
He smiled at this and, inexplicably, Lisa felt herself softening. As if nature had programmed her to melt whenever the father of her child dished out some scrap of affection. And she couldn’t afford to melt.
‘Whatever the sex of the baby, there’s no reason why the act of succession cannot be re-examined some time in the future,’ he said and walked across the room towards her, towering over her, his muscular body completely dominating her line of vision. ‘I am doing my very best to be reasonable here and I will do everything in my power to accommodate your desires, Lisa. And before you start glowering at me like that, I wasn’t referring just to physical desires, though I’m more than happy to take those into account.’
Lisa could feel her face growing hot and her breasts beginning to prickle. And the most infuriating thing of all was that right then she wanted him to touch them again. To cup and fondle them and flicker his tongue over them. She wanted him to put his hand between her legs and to ease the aching there. Was it normal for a pregnant woman to feel such a powerful sense of desire?
‘I can’t do that,’ she said in a low voice. ‘My life is here. I can’t leave my little niece, or my sister.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I...help them.’
‘What do you mean, you help them?’
She shrugged. ‘They have no regular income.’
‘Your sister is a single parent?’
‘Sort of. She’s with Jason, only they’re not married and he’s rather work-shy.’
‘Then it’s about time he changed his attitude,’ he said. ‘Your sister and child will receive all the support they require because I will be able to help with that, too. And soon you will have a family of your own to think about.’
‘And my business?’ she demanded, levering herself into a sitting-up position and trying to summon the energy to glare at him. ‘What about that? I’ve worked for years to establish myself and yet now I’m expected to drop everything—as if my work was nothing but some disposable little hobby.’
‘I am willing to compromise on that and I don’t intend to deprive you of your career,’ he said softly. ‘You have people who work for you. Let them run the shop in your absence while you design from the palace.’
And Lisa knew that whatever objection she raised Luc would override her. Because he could. He didn’t care that she was close to her little niece and terrified that everything she’d worked for would simply slip away if she wasn’t there to oversee it. He didn’t care about her—he never had. All he cared about was what he wanted. And he wanted this baby.
‘You don’t understand.’ She raised her hands in a gesture of appeal, but the answering look in his eyes was stony.
‘I understand more than you might think,’ he said. ‘I shall accommodate your wishes as much as possible. I don’t intend to be a cruel husband. But be very clear about one thing, Lisa—that this topic is not open for debate. That if it comes to it, I will drag you screaming and kicking to the altar, because you will be my wife and my child will be born on Mardovian soil.’
There was a pause as she bit her lip before looking up at the grim determination which made his blue eyes look so cold. ‘If...if I agree to this forced marriage, I want some form of compensation.’
‘Compensation?’ he echoed incredulously, as if she was insulting him—which in a way she guessed she was. Unless you counted what she wanted as some old-fashioned kind of dowry.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I want you to buy my sister a house of her own and provide her with a regular income which will free her from the clutches of her sponging partner.’
His mouth twisted. ‘And that is the price for your consent?’
Lisa nodded. ‘That is my price,’ she said heavily.
LUC LOOKED AROUND the room—a relatively small room but the one where his wedding to Lisa Tiffany Bailey was about to take place. It was decked out with garlands of flowers, their heavy fragrance perfuming the air, and over the marble fireplace was the crimson and gold of the Mardovian flag. Everything around him was as exquisitely presented as you would expect in the embassy of a country which had a reputation for excellence—and the staff had pulled out all the stops for the unexpected wedding of their ruler to his English bride. But when it boiled down to it, it was just a room.
His face tightening with tension, he thought about the many generations of his family who had married in the august surroundings of the famous cathedral in Mardovia’s capital. Grand weddings attended by other royals, by world leaders,