bit down hard on her lip and shook her head, and he seemed to know exactly what to do.
He swiftly whisked her off the dance floor, while she struggled to maintain her composure. “Where to?” he whispered, as they exited the ballroom, into a foyer full of people socializing and sipping drinks. She needed to be somewhere private, where no one would see the inevitable breakdown. A place where, when she finally pulled herself together, she could fix her makeup and return to the party as though nothing were out of the ordinary.
“My room,” she managed.
“Upstairs?” he asked, and she nodded. She was biting her lip so hard now she tasted blood.
The staircase was roped off and two security officers stood guard, but as they approached one unhooked the rope to let them pass.
“Her Highness was kind enough to offer me a tour of the castle,” Sam told them, which really wasn’t necessary. Then she realized he’d said it not for the guards’ sake, but for the guests who were watching them. She would have to remember to thank him. But the fact that he cared about her reputation, that he would be so kind as to help her avoid embarrassment, brought the tears even closer to the surface. They were halfway up to the second floor when her eyes started to leak rivers of warm tears down her cheeks, and when they reached her door and he ushered her inside, the floodgates burst.
She thought for sure he would leave her alone, but after she heard the door close Sam’s arms went around her, pulling her tight against him. The idea that he cared enough to stay, when normally she felt so isolated in her grief, made her cry even harder.
Anne clung to him, sobbing her heart out against his chest, both mortified and desperately grateful that he was there.
“Let it out, Annie,” he whispered, rubbing her back and stroking her hair. No one but Louisa had called her Annie, and it made her feel close to him somehow, which made no sense because she barely knew him. Still it felt as if they had shared something special. Something intimate.
As spontaneous and intense as the emotional outburst had been, it was surprisingly short-lived. As the sobs subsided, Sam handed her his handkerchief and she dabbed her eyes.
“She cries,” he said, sounding amazed.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she whispered against his jacket.
“They wouldn’t believe me if I did.”
Of course they wouldn’t. She was the ice princess, The Shrew. She didn’t have feelings. But the truth was she felt just as deeply as anyone else, sh e was just damned good at hiding it. But she didn’t want to be the ice princess anymore. At least, not tonight. Tonight she wanted someone to know the woman underneath.
Sam cradled her face in his palms and gently tipped it up to his, wiping the last of her tears away with his thumbs. She gazed up into eyes as clear blue as the ocean, and she could swear she felt something shift deep inside her.
She wasn’t sure if he made the first move, or she did, or they met halfway, but suddenly their lips were locked, and in that instant she had never wanted a man more than she wanted him.
Any man who accused Princess Anne of being cold and unfeeling had obviously never kissed her. She tasted sweet and salty, like champagne and tears, and she put her heart and soul, her entire being into it.
Though Sam wasn’t quite sure who kissed whom first, he had the feeling he might have just unleashed some sort of wild animal. She clawed at his clothes, yanking his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, tugging his bow tie loose. She fumbled with his belt, unfastened his pants, and before he could manage to catch his breath, slid her hand inside his boxers and wrapped it around him. Sam cursed under his breath, a word that under normal circumstances he would never dare utter in the presence of royalty, but he was having one hell of a tough time reconciling the princess he knew with the wild woman who was now walking backward toward her bed, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor. She plucked a jewel-encrusted comb from her hair and he watched as it spilled down over her shoulders like black silk. She grinned wickedly, tempting him with eyes the color of the sky just before a storm—smoky gray and turbulent.
Though under normal circumstances he would find it juvenile and downright rude, when his mates dared Sam to ask Princess Anne, The Shrew, to dance, he’d had just enough champagne to take the bait. But never in a million years did he expect her to ask him first. Nor did he expect to find himself in her bedroom, Anne undressed to her black lace strapless bra and matching panties. And as she draped her long, lithe body across the mattress, summoning him closer with a crooked finger and a seductive smile, he guessed it wouldn’t be long before she wore nothing at all.
“Take your clothes off,” she demanded as she reached around behind her to unhook her bra. Her breasts were small and firm and he could hardly wait to get his hands on them, to taste them. He ripped his shirt off, losing a button or two in his haste, then stepped out of his pants, grabbing his wallet for later. That was when he realized the mistake he’d made and cursed again.
“What’s wrong?” Anne asked.
“I don’t have a condom.”
“You don’t?” she said, looking crestfallen.
He shook his head. It wasn’t as if he came to these events expecting to shag, and even if he had, he would have anticipated taking the woman in question home, where he kept an entire box in his bedside table drawer.
“I’ve got it covered,” Anne told him.
“You have a condom?”
“No, but I have it covered.”
In other words, she was on birth control, but that wouldn’t protect either of them from disease. But he knew he was clean, and it was a safe bet to assume she was, too. So why not? Besides, Anne was wearing a look that said she wouldn’t be taking no for an answer.
He dropped the rest of his clothes in a pile and joined her. As she dragged him down onto the bed, ravaging his mouth with a deep, desperate kiss, rolling him onto his back and straddling him, he had the feeling this was a night he wouldn’t soon forget.
They had barely gotten started and it was already the best sex he’d ever had.
Two
September
I’ve got it covered, Anne thought wryly as she dragged herself up from the bathroom floor, still weak and shaky, and propped herself against the vanity over the sink. What the bloody hell had she been thinking when she told Sam that? Had she not bothered to even consider the consequences? The repercussions of her actions?
Well, she was considering them now. And she had no one to blame but herself.
She rinsed her mouth and splashed cold water on her face and the wave of nausea began to pass. The family physician, whom she had sworn to total secrecy, had assured her that she’d feel better in her second trimester. But here she was in her fifteenth week, three weeks past that magical date, and she still felt like the walking dead. But it was worth it, she thought, as she laid a hand over the tiny bump that had begun to form just below her navel.
It was hard to believe that at first, when she learned she was pregnant, she wasn’t even sure that she wanted to keep it. Her initial plan
