planning on seeing him that night.
Reaching the top floor of the east wing of Xaviera’s palace, he strode in the direction of the white double doors with intricate scroll designs carved down the sides. The huge square “waiting” area between the top of the stairs and his apartment had scant furnishings, though the walls were adorned with art. Picasso. Rembrandt. Monet. Hidden treasures. Mostly for his viewing. Because that’s what his life was. Special. Honored. In spite of the awkward meeting with his father, he knew that he was different. Some day he would be a king.
The click of his heels echoed as he walked along the marble floor. When he reached the doors, he took both handles and opened them onto his home, his haven.
Virginia Jones rose from the tufted bench seat in what served as a foyer for his apartment. Medium height, with long yellow hair and the kind of body that tempts a man to do exactly what he had done the night he met her, Ginny was every man’s fantasy. When her striking blue eyes met his, he remembered how adorable she was at the Texas high school, a guidance counselor beloved by her students. He also remembered the hot little red dress she’d slipped into when he’d persuaded her to go clubbing with him. The dress had brought out the best of her figure, almost made him drool and turned him into a real live Prince Charming. Seducing her had been second nature. The sex had been amazing.
It seemed that was all he could think about when he looked at her. And now he was about to make her a princess.
“So?”
“So, my father and my kingdom wish for us to marry.”
Those bright blue eyes met his. “Wish?”
He motioned for her to follow him into his formal living room. More marble floors greeted them, except these were covered by rich red Oriental rugs. White sofas flanked 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
