Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter
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relationship she had with her father. Work had always come first for him. Clearly it was the same for Eduardo. Fair enough. He was a prince with bigger things to worry about than her fragile ego.
But this was no longer only about her. She didn’t want her child to suffer the way she had.
She forced a few more mouthfuls down and then gave up on the effort. She’d finally realised the full import of this crazy day.
What was best for this baby wasn’t what Eduardo thought. He meant well, but marriage wasn’t necessary. No one ever need know it was his baby. She could rear the child in private and they could all be free to be happy.
Resolve firming, she left her room and swiftly walked along the sumptuous corridors back to the library. It was empty, but in the distance she heard a regular splashing sound.
Business to attend to, huh?
She went out through one of the French doors to the terrace and walked the length of the building, then turned the corner to find a private lap pool. She crept closer, pausing beside a tall column. Wicker chairs covered in plump, pure white cushions sat at angles to each other, but she didn’t take a seat. She couldn’t take her eyes from the strong figure gliding smoothly through the aquamarine water. She watched him complete several lengths, executing perfect tumble turns at each end, easily maintaining that scorching pace.
But halfway through the next length he suddenly stopped and stood. Droplets of water cascaded down his broad shoulders. ‘How long are you going to stand in the shadows watching me?’
He had good eyesight, then. So did she. And right now he looked incredibly athletic. Fit, strong, built.
‘I want to talk to you,’ she said, glad that dusk was darkening the sky and half-hiding the blush she knew was covering every inch of her body.
He levered himself out of the pool in one smooth movement and stood before her. ‘So talk.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re...naked.’ And she was no longer blushing—she was burning.
‘It is my pool.’ He shrugged. ‘My staff know not to bother me.’
‘I’m not staff.’ That was precisely the point she needed to make. She wasn’t going to be ordered about and dismissed. She’d damn well bother him when she wanted to.
He inclined his head. ‘I was not expecting company.’
‘You want to make yourself decent?’ Desperately she glanced around for a towel, to stop herself staring at him like a lust-struck, hormone-drunk wanton.
‘Am I not already?’ He sent her an ironic glance. ‘You were naked before and not embarrassed. I’m not embarrassed by you seeing me. In fact, I quite like it.’
EDUARDO WAS TEASING the tiger. He shouldn’t. He was too close to losing control. But he couldn’t resist.
He wasn’t going to like what she’d come to say. He could read it in her diamond-bright eyes and firm-held mouth. On the plus side, he relished the fact that his nudity had shot her concentration. That made them even.
He didn’t want to fight. He was mentally worn out from the day’s revelations and resulting requirements, and he absolutely shouldn’t have kissed her before because it was all he could think about now.
He’d spent hours organising every damn detail and all he wanted now was for the next few to pass quickly so he could complete his plan. Then he could have her—how he wanted, where he wanted. All would work out. It had to.
‘You really are the most arrogant pri—’ she growled in a low, rusty voice.
‘Arrogant prince—yes.’ He readily admitted it. ‘We’re born that way.’ He reached past her for a towel, letting his hand brush her denim-clad thigh. ‘Now, tell me the problem—cold feet?’
‘I’m not marrying you tomorrow.’
He wrapped the towel round his waist and then just looked at her.
She stared back, obviously waiting for a reply, but he’d learned a few tricks from his ice-cold brother. When the silence grew too much for her to bear—as he had known it would—she started talking.
‘It’s a bad idea. You know it’s not necessary.’
He remained unmoved.
‘I can go away and take care of the baby. We don’t need to do this.’
She was so wrong.
‘You don’t need me?’ Anger clouded his vision. ‘What can you give this child alone?’ he asked, determined to remain calm. ‘You would travel to some distant place, put the child in daycare for all hours while you work to feed and shelter it?’
‘How is that worse than an army of nannies and a distant father the child will see for five minutes a day if it’s lucky?’
‘Why assume I’ll be a distant father?’
Her eyes flashed with disbelief.
His anger roiled at her rejection. Why did she judge him so harshly? She had no reason to, and yet she hadn’t given him a chance. Not once. Right from the beginning she’d kept the most important things from him. She hadn’t told him her name, hadn’t told him she was a virgin. She’d used him, then left him hanging. And then she hadn’t even told him she was expecting. Instead she’d tried to flee. Did she think that little of him?
‘You would deny your child’s birthright?’
‘You would ensure he or she missed out on nothing.’ Anger flushed her cheeks.
‘So...’ He nodded bitterly. ‘You only want cash from me.’
‘This isn’t about me or what I want.’ She glared at him.
‘The hell it isn’t.’ It damn well was about her. And him. And this insane pull they shared. She didn’t like it. Well, nor did he. But they were both going to have to get over it. This time he was getting it right.
‘This is about what’s best for our baby. Think about it.’ She switched to a calm tone that made him suspicious. ‘Together we can arrange for this child to have a quiet, happy life out of the spotlight. He or she wouldn’t suffer the burden of royal expectation or protocol. No duty to fulfil. No desire to be denied.’
Oh, she was smart—picking up on the smallest hint of discomfort within him and using it to bolster her argument. The fact that she was so astute invigorated him. But that she could so easily dismiss the idea that he might have anything more than money to offer burned.
‘But it could never be kept secret. Would you be happy to play the role of unmarried mother?’ he growled back, his temper slipping his hold because her words had struck hard. ‘Of fallen woman?’
‘This is the twenty-first century—children are born out of wedlock all the time. Kids grow up in sole-parent households all over the world—’
‘Not in the De Santis family,’ he interrupted harshly. ‘Honour above all else.’ He captured her hand in a hard grip and pulled her closer. He clamped his other arm around her. It felt damn good to touch her—even if she was spitting fire.
‘Honour?’ she snarled. ‘You call this sham wedding honourable? It is deceit.’
‘There is no deceit,’ he argued hotly. ‘We will be married for real. What is it that you want from me?’ he exploded, pushing her away from him so he could think. ‘I am doing what’s right. I am being reasonable. You want me to tie you up in chains and drag you to the altar? Would that make you feel better in some warped way? You want me to play lord and master?’
But Stella