Pregnant With A Royal Baby!. SUSAN MEIER
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a white marble fireplace. Red pillows gave the room some color. He gestured for Virginia to take a seat while he strode to the bar and grabbed the decanter of Scotch.
“Can I get you a drink?”
She gaped at him. “I’m pregnant.”
He winced. “Right.” He took a breath. “How about some orange juice?”
“I’m fine.” She held his gaze. “I’m more anxious to learn my fate than to pretend we’re having a tea party.”
He had no idea where the attitude had come from, but that was the truth of getting intimate with someone you didn’t know. She could be the Wicked Witch of the West, or a woman who wanted to save the whales, or a woman who had no loyalties at all, a woman who was lazy, crass or stupid, and he was stuck with her.
“All right.” He walked to the sofa across from the one on which she sat and set his Scotch on the glass table between them. “Maybe the better way to put it is that they are requesting that we marry.”
“So I have a choice?”
“Not really. You are pregnant with the heir to Xaviera’s throne. If you decide not to marry me, your child will be taken from you.”
She gasped. “What?”
“He or she is the heir to our throne. There isn’t a country in the world who’d dare supersede our laws with their own when it comes to royalty, especially royalty in line to rule the country.”
She bounced from her seat. “That’s not fair!”
He sat back, watching her long legs as she paced. Though she wore jeans and a snug sweater, he pictured those legs beneath the shiny red dress. “Try suing. Waste time. Ruin the chance for us to have a royal wedding. Ruin the chance for the gossip to die down and our child to be brought into the world with a celebration instead of whispers.”
She stopped pacing and caught his gaze, obviously thinking through what he’d said.
He took advantage of her weak moment. “You won’t win and you’ll bring our child into a world of chaos for nothing because I have a plan.”
* * *
“A plan?”
Ginny stared at the gorgeous man on the sofa. With eyes so dark they almost looked black and onyx hair, he was every inch a prince. A royal. A future ruler who lived a life of privilege. A man just a little bit above everybody else.
As they talked about a situation that would totally change her life, he very calmly sipped Scotch.
“My father wants the next king to be born in wedlock.” He held her gaze. “Our subjects will, too. But that doesn’t mean we have to stay married.”
Relieved, she sat on the sofa across from him again. “It doesn’t?”
“No. But it does mean we have to play a part for a while.” He glanced at his Scotch then back up at her. “Over the next couple of days, as the protocol office begins planning our wedding, we’ll be seen together in public.”
Her heart thumped when he said wedding. She would be married to a guy who would someday be a king. Did that mean sleeping with him? They might be at odds now, but the night they’d gone out, they’d had a really good time. She had no idea how that factored into his plan, so she kept her face calm, simply kept her gaze locked with his, hoping to appear cooler than she was.
“Next week we’ll announce our engagement, quick wedding and pregnancy all at once.”
That didn’t sound fun. “Oh, boy.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve thought this through. The people of Xaviera will be thrilled to see me getting married. But the only thing they love better than a royal wedding is a royal pregnancy. If we play this right, the next few months could be a wonderful time for the people of my kingdom.”
“Okay.” Her nerves popped and jumped, but she resisted the urge to bounce off the sofa and pace again. If he could be calm, she could be calm. And really what he said made sense. They were doing this for his people and their child, a future king, who deserved to be born amid celebration.
“So we’d get married next month and after that we’d spend the rest of your pregnancy making appearances as the happy couple expecting the next heir to the throne, then the baby will be born to a country excited and happy about his birth.”
She could picture it. She’d seen enough of Britain’s royal family’s weddings, as well as their pregnancies, to have a pretty good idea of what she was in for. Except Xaviera was a small country, much smaller than Britain, so she could probably cut the exposure in the press and even in Xaviera itself in about half. Which wouldn’t be too bad.
“After that we should stay married until the baby’s about two. At age two, there’s a ceremony that would induct him or her into the line of reigning Sanchos. We can be cool to each other at that ceremony, and then we can divorce without causing too much of a stir because after that nothing press worthy happens in his life until he turns twelve.” He sat back. “If people want to say we married hastily, or even if they say we only married for the baby, we agree. But waiting until he or she is two shows we gave the marriage a good shot. Because we’ll be fair and calm about it, everyone will support us.”
“And what about the baby?”
“What about the baby?”
“Who keeps him? What kind of custody arrangements are we talking about here?”
“There are a few scenarios. I was hoping you’d let the years we’re married go by without making any final decisions, but if you choose to take our child back to America, a contingent of bodyguards will be sent with you. Xaviera will purchase a home with suitable security.”
“What about my job?”
“Your job will be mother to Xaviera’s heir. At least until he or she is twelve.”
“Twelve?”
“Up until twelve he can be homeschooled. After that there are mandatory boarding schools. He or she has to have a certain kind of education.”
“No public school, huh?”
“Mock if you want, but that is the situation.” He rose from the sofa. “Once he goes to boarding school, your life is your own again. Except you will be expected to attend all of his public functions.”
She could see it. She could picture herself as the future king’s mom, wiping grape jelly from her little boy’s chin in private, and way, way out of the view of cameras when he was in public. Knowing that she’d easily slip out of the limelight settled some of her nerves. Still, there was more to it than grape jelly and hiding from cameras.
“I’ll give you a week to think about it.”
“A week?”
“The week you’re at the palace. The time we’re getting out. Being seen in public. Having a date or two.”
Their eyes met. Their last date had been fantastic. But it was also what had gotten them into this mess.
“I think I still have some more questions.”
“About the dates?”
She nodded.
“Like, will we kiss?”
A starburst of tingles exploded in her stomach. She nodded again.
“Yes. We have to pretend we adore each other. That we met and swept each other off our respective feet.” He held her gaze. “Which we sort of did.”
Memories of holding hands, intimate touches and those unbelievable kisses rippled through her, tightening her chest, sending her pulse into overdrive.
“But sex is off the table.” He smiled. “Unless you’re interested.”
Her