The Dare Collection September 2018. Stefanie London
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Damien
JULIET GRIPS MY hand tightly as we emerge from the Rolls. Only it’s not just a team of doctors waiting for us.
There are cameras.
The bright morning sun is the least of our worries as state-of-the-art flashbulbs blink and blind us.
“Prince Damien! Was it a royal plot to knock up the Nightgardin princess?”
“Your Highness! Where will you and the princess reside?”
“Princess Juliet—is it true Damien doesn’t even remember sleeping with you? How can we be so sure you’re carrying Edenvale’s heir?”
“Damien, are you even welcome in Nightgardin now that you’ve made a whore of the princess?”
At this Juliet gasps, then stumbles over a paparazzo’s shoe. But before she hits the pavement, I scoop her into my arms. She ducks her head into my chest.
“Enough!” I bark at the crowd. “No fucking comment!”
I storm for the doors where X ushers the medical team and us inside.
“My apologies, Highness,” he says once we are safe from the press. “I assure you that no one knew of this appointment other than myself and the medical staff.”
I lower Juliet to the ground, and though she stands fine on her own two feet, she is shaking. “Someone leaked it,” I growl. “And this isn’t like the Rosegate stunt at the stables. That was international press out there, descending like damned vultures.”
X nods. “Your Highness,” he says to Juliet, “I will get to the bottom of this and assure it will not happen to you again.”
“Thank you,” she says, an audible tremble in her voice.
As the team leads us to a private elevator and then up to the birthing ward, I make myself clear to each and every one of them.
“When we find out who made our presence known, there will be consequences. Juliet is Edenvale royalty now, and whichever one of you betrayed your very own princess will have to deal with me personally.”
I stop suddenly as the elevator doors open onto our floor.
“What is it?” Juliet asks, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
Your very own princess.
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I tell her, but it’s a lie. Yet the truth doesn’t make sense—that I’ve spoken those very words before in my wife’s defense. Because if that is the case, it means I’ve not only forgotten making love to her, but I’ve also forgotten failing her once already.
“I’ll do a paternity test,” Juliet says softly as we head toward the exam room. “If you’re still having doubts about—you know.”
It’s not a matter of whether or not I want the test. Ever since DNA testing became possible, Edenvale used the medical advancement as another form of protection against enemies like Nightgardin. Ultimately, I have to break the news that it will be required by royal law to determine if she is, in fact, carrying an Edenvale heir. But royal law is not what is important to me right now. Nor do I want to risk hurting her.
“It’s my baby,” I say, jaw tight. “You have nothing to prove to me, Princess.” Then I wrap my arm around her, and we walk side by side into the room.
“X,” I say before I close the door and he stands guard. “What happened downstairs is one thing,” I say. “But if anything else gets leaked—we’re talking about the safety of our baby.”
“Of course, Your Highness. From here on out it will just be the doctor and the two of you,” he says, and the reassurance of his tone is enough for me to believe that for now, we are safe.
The obstetrician, Dr. Dominique Broussard, guides Juliet to the exam chair where a gown sits folded. “Please put that on,” she says in a kind voice. “The opening should be in the front. I’ll return in a few minutes, and we’ll get started on all the fun.”
The doctor steps out of the room, and for a few long seconds, Juliet and I stand there.
“Can I help you out of your dress?” I finally say.
She blushes, but I know it is not the same kind of reaction as when she disrobed for me last night.
“You can grab the zipper if you want.”
She turns so her back is to me, pulling her long brown hair off her neck.
Unable to resist, I press my lips to her nape and breathe her in. Then I watch as goose bumps pepper her flesh, grinning in silent satisfaction at how this woman reacts to my touch.
“Damien,” she warns as I slide the zipper down and push the dress off her shoulders.
I chuckle but say nothing as she steps out of the dress and then into the exam gown before situating herself on the chair.
A knock sounds on the door. Perfect timing.
“We’re ready,” Juliet calls out, and Dr. Broussard reenters the room.
“Is this your first doctor’s visit, Princess?” she asks as she situates herself on the rolling chair parked by a counter full of equipment. “I mean—for the baby?”
Juliet nods nervously. “I fled my country before getting medical verification of the pregnancy. But I—I stole a test from the bath chamber of the servants’ quarters. I needed to be sure before I risked running away. ” Her cheeks redden. “I thought charting my fertility was foolproof, but I guess our baby had other plans.” Her hand instinctively flies to her belly. “I’m just realizing now how scared I am. I mean, what if the baby’s not okay? What if the stress of running from home had some sort of adverse effect? What if—”
I grab her free hand and hold it tight. I will not discount her worries. They are valid, and I won’t lie that I don’t share some of them as well. But she doesn’t have to worry alone.
“Whatever we find out today, we find out together,” I tell her, and her brown eyes shine as she nods.
“The best thing you can do, Princess, is to relax. The calmer you are, the easier it will be to find the baby on the sonogram. But please do not get scared if we don’t. You’re barely ten weeks. Sometimes the baby is so small that we cannot find it on the first try.”
Juliet sucks in a shaky breath, then blows it out slowly.
“That’s good,” the doctor says. “Deep, calming breaths.”
As Juliet inhales and exhales, so do I.
“We’re going to make you a bit more comfortable,” Dr. Broussard says, and presses a button that tilts the chair so that Juliet is reclined.
All the while, her hand remains in mine.
Dr. Broussard opens Juliet’s gown. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt, and we’re nice enough to heat the gel for you.”
She squirts the small tube onto Juliet’s belly, then swirls it around with some sort of wand, her eyes trained on a monitor to her right.
It’s so quiet in this sterile room. Too quiet. In my head I hear the steady beep of the heart monitor in the hospital room where I woke up only a couple months ago—practically at the same time this life was conceived. But I remind myself that this is not the same thing. No one’s life hangs in the balance, least of all my own.
“Hmm...” Dr. Broussard says, and Juliet sucks in a breath.
This brings me back to the moment, and I realize I’m holding mine. Because hmm, in my opinion, isn’t what we want to hear.
The doctor’s brow furrows as she presses the wand firmly