His Pregnant Bride: Pregnant by the Greek Tycoon / His Pregnant Princess / Pregnant: Father Needed. Robyn Donald
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Of course, she hadn’t known then what she did now.
Georgie had planned the evening down to the last detail. She’d wanted everything to be perfect, but from the start nothing had gone right.
To begin with the party that Sacha and Olympia had been going to attend had been cancelled at the last minute, so the romantic meal she had planned had become a family affair. Georgie had wanted to scream with frustration, especially when Angolos hadn’t turned up.
When he had arrived an hour later than he had promised, he’d seemed distracted and had even been terse with his mother, who had been unwise enough to remonstrate him on his tardiness. Georgie had caught him looking at her so strangely a couple of times that she’d started to think that he had guessed about the baby. That would have accounted for the suppressed tension emanating from him.
The meal had been a stiff, formal affair, but that hadn’t been unusual, and had seemed to last for ever. When they had finally retreated to their own suite of rooms she hadn’t known what to say. Suddenly her planned speech hadn’t seemed right.
Angolos hadn’t helped; he’d seemed strangely remote and unapproachable. She had noticed that he had drunk more at dinner than he generally did, and the fine lines bracketing his mouth had suggested he was under some strain.
‘Did you have a bad day?’ She laid a tentative hand on his arm.
His dark eyes immediately slewed in the direction of the fingers curled lightly over his arm. Though there was no discernible expression on his lean features, Georgie withdrew her hand awkwardly.
His mouth twisted. ‘You could say that.’
Hurt and bewildered by the underlying hostility in his manner, she retreated to a chair beside the bed.
She watched as he removed his tie and fell backwards onto the bed. He lay for a moment spread-eagled with his eyes closed. Then from his prone position he began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt.
The action revealed the golden skin of lean-muscled torso and Georgie’s breath snagged in her throat. He was simply stunningly beautiful.
He looked at her through heavy-lidded, half-closed eyes.
‘You were quiet tonight,’ he observed.
‘Was I?’ What would he say when she told him? She glanced wistfully towards the open double doors that led out to the balcony and adopted a coaxing tone. ‘Why don’t we sit outside? I love to look at the moonlight on the sea.’ And what could be a more romantic spot to tell him her news?
‘You sound like a tourist.’ Before she had an opportunity to respond to his dismissive comment he added thickly, ‘And anyway, I prefer to look at you. You look particularly glowing this evening.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes.’ His long fingers closed around her wrist. ‘Tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself today. Have you missed me?’
Only every other second. ‘I’ve been pretty busy, actually.’ She had taken his recent hints about being more self-reliant to heart.
She didn’t want to become a clingy wife. It had helped that Alan had come over and had been staying in the nearby village with his friend.
Georgie willingly responded to the gentle tug on her arm and fell in a happy heap beside him. She flipped over onto her tummy and, with her chin propped in her hands, smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. ‘Alan went home today.’
‘How sad.’
‘Don’t be mean about him,’ she begged.
‘Mean…?’
‘Well, you’re—’ She gasped as he turned her wrist over and pressed his lips to the pale-skinned inner aspect; she shivered as all the fine hairs on her body stood on end.
‘Have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful man that ever drew breath?’
‘Not recently.’
His husky velvet voice sent a shiver along her hopelessly sensitive nerve endings. ‘I suppose I have been a bit moody lately,’ she admitted. When he realised why, she hoped he would forgive her recent crankiness and mood swings. ‘I didn’t know why myself until today.’
‘Are you going to let me in on the secret?’
‘Soon,’ she promised as with her best enigmatic smile she hitched up her long skirts to her waist and straddled his body.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m just doing,’ she told him primly, ‘what any dutiful wife would.’ She frowned as she concentrated on slipping the remaining buttons of his shirt. Within seconds she had exposed all of his lean, hard torso. She ran her fingertips over the silky, hair-roughened surface and felt his stomach muscles contract. His skin was like oiled silk. She gave a voluptuous sigh of pleasure.
His hands tightened possessively over the smooth, bare skin of her thighs. ‘What has brought this on?’
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘Oh, I like it. I’m just wondering why you should decide to take the initiative tonight…’
Did that mean he found her unadventurous and boring in bed? The thought took the edge off her pleasure and dented her newly discovered confidence.
‘Tonight’s special.’
‘I think you’ll remember it.’
Georgie, rehearsing what she was going to say in her head, barely registered his cryptic response. ‘Angolos, I’ve got something to tell you.’ She leaned forward, her eyes glowing with anticipation, her cheeks gently flushed. With a grunt of irritation she pinned the strands of her hair that brushed his face behind one ear. ‘Sorry.’
‘I like your hair on my skin. It feels…’ He closed his eyes and muttered something angry in Greek under his breath.
‘I think what I’ve got to say will cheer you up.’
Considering what had followed, that was probably the silliest comment she had ever made, Georgie reflected grimly.
‘You’re going to be a father, Angolos. I’m going to have a baby.’
His eyes stayed closed—she began to think he’d not heard her—then, dark, deep and impenetrable, they flickered open.
‘Pregnant?’
She nodded, and experienced the first stirrings of fear. Something was badly wrong, but she had no idea what… Perhaps he felt it was too soon, which didn’t make sense because he was the one who had just shrugged when she had mentioned precautions…
‘I know we weren’t trying…and we didn’t discuss it, but I thought you might be happy. You are happy?’
‘Happy? I’m bloody delirious,’ he contended grimly. ‘Can’t you tell, yineka mou?’
‘I d…don’t understand…’ she stuttered.
Angolos rounded a corner in the lane and stopped. He could see her sitting on the wall, oblivious for the moment to his presence. He took the opportunity to study her undetected.
With her hair tied back in a pony-tail and her face innocent of make-up she looked more like a teenager than the mother of a child—his child. The idea still seemed strange to him. Strange as in bordering on miraculous, though he didn’t expect Georgie to share his sense of wonder.
‘You were far away.’
Georgie jumped at the sound of his voice. ‘You’re late.’
He didn’t react to her shrill, accusatory tone. ‘Have you come to a decision?’
‘I have.’ She had thought long and hard; she had thought until her brain felt as if it would explode.
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