A Bride For The Playboy Prince. Sandra Marton
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trying to push him towards the altar most of his adult life and deep down he had imagined Lisa would be no different. He’d thought she would be picturing herself walking down the wide aisle of Mardovia’s famous cathedral—a glittering tiara in her curly hair. Yet all she was doing was surveying him with a proud look and he felt the slow burn of indignation. Who the hell did she think she was—turning down his offer of marriage without even a moment’s consideration?
For a split second he felt powerless—an unwelcome sensation to someone whose power had always been his lifeblood. He wanted to tell her that she would do exactly as he demanded and she might as well resign herself to that fact right now. But the belligerent expression on her face told him he had better proceed with caution.
His gaze drifted over her, but for once the riot of curls and green-gold eyes were not the focus of his attention. He noted how much fuller her breasts were and how the swell of her belly completely dwarfed her tiny frame. And inside that belly was his child. His throat thickened.
She looked like a tiny boat in full sail, yet she was no less enticing for all that. He still wanted her and if circumstances had been different he might have pulled her in his arms and started to kiss her. He could have lulled her into compliance and taken her into one of those changing rooms. Drawn the velvet curtains away from prying eyes and had her gasping her approval to whatever it was he asked of her.
But she was heavy with child. Glowing like a pomegranate in the thin winter sun—and because of that he couldn’t use sex as a bargaining tool.
‘Get your coat,’ he said. ‘And I’ll take you home.’
‘I haven’t finished what I was doing.’
‘I’ll wait.’
‘There’s no need. Honestly, I can get a cab.’
‘I said, I’ll wait. Don’t fight me on this, Lisa—because I’m not going anywhere.’ And with this he positioned himself on one of the velvet and gilt chairs, stretching his long legs in front of him.
Lisa wanted to protest, but what was the point? She couldn’t deny they needed to talk, but not now and not like this—when she was still flustered by his sudden appearance and the announcement that he’d called off his wedding. She needed to have her wits about her but her brain currently felt as if it were clouded in mist, leaving her unable to think properly. And that was dangerous.
He had taken out his cell phone and was flicking through his emails and giving them his full attention, and she found herself almost envying him. If only she were capable of such detachment of thought! The figures in front of her were a jumble and in the end she gave up trying to make sense of them. How could she possibly concentrate on her work with Luc distracting her like this?
She shut down her computer and gave him a cool look. ‘Okay. I’m ready,’ she said.
She sensed he was exerting considerable restraint to remain patient as she carried the jug and water glass out into the kitchen, set the burglar alarm, turned off the lights and locked the door. Outside, the drizzle was coming down a little heavier now and his driver leapt from the car to run over and position a huge umbrella over her head. She wanted to push the monstrous black thing away—uncaring that the soft rain would turn her hair into a mass of frizz—but she stopped just in time. She needed to be calm and reasonable because she suspected that she and Luc were coming at this pregnancy from completely different angles. And if she allowed her fluctuating hormones to make her all volatile, he would probably get some awful Mardovian judge to pronounce her unfit to be a mother!
She sat in frozen silence on the way to her apartment and a feeling of frustration built up inside her when he made no attempt to talk to her. Was he playing mind games? Trying to see which of them would buckle first? Well, he had better realise that this wasn’t a game—not for her. She was strong and resolute and knew exactly what she wanted.
But when they drew up outside her humble block, he surprised her with his words.
‘Have dinner with me tomorrow night.’
‘Dinner?’
‘Why not?’ he said. ‘We need to discuss what we’re going to do and there’s nothing in the rulebook which says we can’t do it in a civilised manner.’
In the dim light Lisa blinked. She thought about the two of them making an entrance in the kind of fancy restaurant he would no doubt frequent—the handsome Prince and the heavily pregnant woman.
‘But if we’re seen out together,’ she said slowly, ‘that would be making a fairly unequivocal statement, wouldn’t it? A prince would never appear alone in public with a woman in my condition unless he was willing to be compromised. Is that what you want, Luc?’
His eyes glittered as he leaned towards her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what I want. I want the world to know that I am the father. You have my child in your belly, Lisa. Do you really think I intend to relinquish my claim on my own flesh and blood?’
The words sounded almost primitive and they were filled with a sense of possession. They reminded Lisa of the full force of his power and the fact that he had grown up with very different values from her. ‘Of course I don’t!’ she said. ‘We can meet with a lawyer and have a legal agreement drawn up. You can see your child any time you like—within reason. Surely you can have no objection to that?’
His eyes were cold and so was his voice. ‘I think you are missing the point, chérie. I intend to marry you.’
‘I’m sorry, Luc.’ She gave a slight shake of her head as she reached for the door handle. ‘I’m afraid that’s just not going to happen.’
But he leaned across the seat and placed his hand over her forearm, and Lisa hated the instant ripple of recognition which whispered over her skin the moment he touched her. Did he feel it, too—was that why he slid his thumb down to her wrist as if to count the beats of the rocketing pulse beneath?
‘Let me see you to your door,’ he said.
The set of his jaw told her that objection would be a waste of time and so she shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. But you’re not coming in.’
Luc made no comment as he accompanied her to her front door as he’d done what now seemed a lifetime ago. But this time there was no warmth and light gilding the summer evening into a golden blur which matched their shared desire. This time there was only the cold bite of a rainy night and a barely restrained sense of hostility. But she was pregnant, he reminded himself. Inside her beat the tiny heart of his own flesh and blood. And that changed everything.
Luc was not a sentimental man and emotion had been schooled out of him from an early age, but now he became aware of something much bigger than himself. He stared at her swollen frame with the realisation that here lay something more precious than all the riches in his entire principality. And he was shaken by just how badly he wanted it.
‘I don’t want to have to fight you to get what I want, Lisa,’ he said softly as they reached her door. ‘But if you force my hand then I’m afraid that’s what’s going to happen. Perhaps I should warn you now that it is better not to defy me.’
Her eyes narrowed like those of a cornered cat. ‘If only you could hear yourself!’ she retorted, unlocking her front door and pushing it open. ‘I can defy you all I like! I’m a free spirit—not your possession or your subject. This is the twenty-first century, Luc, and you can’t make me do something I don’t want to—so why don’t we resume this discussion in the cold light of day when you’re ready to see sense?’
His powerful body grew still and for one hopeful moment Lisa thought he was about to take her advice. But she was wrong. He lifted his hand to rake his fingers back through his rain-spangled hair and she hated the sudden erotic recall which that simple gesture provoked.
‘Your backer is a man called Martin Lawrence,’ he said slowly.
She didn’t ask how he knew. She didn’t show her surprise or foreboding as she raised her eyebrows. ‘And?’