smile nearly pushed him over the edge.
He understood then that it wasn’t going to be fine. It wouldn’t be fine at all.
He looked away again, out the window at the elegant gray eighteenth-century buildings lining the square. It was raining, just a light drizzle, but the gray clouds made the afternoon feel dark and gloomy. The only color on the streets were the rows of trees leading to the adjacent park, lushly green with new spring growth.
“It seems bad now,” he said, aware that he was in danger of becoming too involved, caring too much. He needed to step back. Put some distance between him and Emmeline. He was merely bringing her home, returning her safely to her family. “But this will pass. In fact this time tomorrow you could have a whole new set of problems.”
“Oh, I hope not,” she answered with a cool, hollow laugh as the palace gates loomed before them. “I think I have enough on my plate. Don’t you?”
Entering the palace salon where her parents waited was like walking into a minefield, Emmeline thought several minutes later. She hadn’t even walked all the way through the salon doors before her mother exploded in anger.
“What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?” Queen Claire d’Arcy was on her feet in an instant, her voice a sharp ricochet of sound. “Or was your intention to humiliate us?”
“Absolutely not,” Emmeline answered firmly, forcing herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, closing the gap between them. In a dim part of her brain she knew that Makin was behind her but he was the least of her worries now. “I would never want to humiliate you—”
“But you did! Zale Patek didn’t give us a specific reason why he felt it necessary to break off the engagement, only that he was concerned about a lack of compatibility. Compatibility,” the queen repeated bitterly. “What does that even mean?”
“He was merely being polite. The fault is mine.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Emmeline ignored the jab. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you—”
“When haven’t you?”
“—and will try to make amends.”
“Good. At least we agree on something. You are to return to Raguva immediately and beg His Highness for forgiveness. Do whatever it is you must do, but do not return without his ring on your finger—”
“I can’t.”
“Emmeline, it’s not an option. It’s your duty to marry him. Your duty to provide heirs for him—”
“I can’t, Mother. I’m already pregnant.”
The grand salon, coolly elegant in white and gold, went strangely silent. For a moment there was no sound, no motion, and then her mother sank into her chair by her father’s side.
Finally her mother’s head tipped. “What did you just say, Emmeline?”
Emmeline glanced at her father, who, so far, hadn’t said a word. True to form he sat silent and grim, letting her mother do all the talking. “I … I’m…” She drew a deep breath. “…nearly eight weeks pregnant.”
“Please tell me I heard you wrong.” Her mother’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“I wish I could.” Emmeline’s voice sounded faint to her own ears.
“And of course it’s not Zale Patek’s.”
“No.”
“Slut.”
Emmeline heard Makin hiss a breath, but she didn’t even flinch. She’d expected this. Had known it wouldn’t be pleasant. And it wasn’t.
“How dare you?” Claire choked on the words. “You ungrateful girl! How dare you throw every good thing we have done for you back in our faces?”
Emmeline felt rather than heard Makin move to her side. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? You ruin your chances, you ruin us, and you’re sorry?”
Emmeline lifted her chin, determined to stay calm, determined to remain strong. Tears would serve no purpose, just make her look weak and emotional. Instead she’d accept the consequences, no matter how painful. It’d been her decision to sleep with Alejandro. Now she had to deal with the repercussions. “Yes. And while this is the last thing I wanted to happen, it has, and I’m going to take responsibility.”
“And may I ask who the father is? Or is that secret knowledge?”
Emmeline’s lips parted but Makin spoke first.
“I am,” he said clearly, his deep voice firm.
Emmeline turned to face him, jaw dropping in shock, but he didn’t even look at her. He was staring straight at her mother, a snarl twisting his lips. “I am,” he repeated fiercely, “and I would like a little bit of respect, please.”
Emmeline’s legs turned to jelly, even as her head spun. She reached for Makin. “What are you doing?” she choked, as his fingers curled around hers.
“Making this right,” he growled.
She shook her head frantically. “It won’t… it won’t, trust me.”
“No. It’s time you trusted me.” And then with a small, hard smile in her parents’ direction, he walked Emmeline out and closed the doors behind him.
In the hall Emmeline’s legs threatened to give out. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” she said, holding his arm tightly.
“Yes.” He frowned at her. “You’re feeling faint, aren’t you?”
“A little.”
He swore beneath his breath and swung her into his arms. “I should not have brought you back!”
“But you did. Now, put me down. I’ll be fine in a moment.”
He ignored her, exiting the hall for the grand foyer with the blue-painted dome, and began to climb the stairs two at a time.
“Makin, please. I can walk.”
“Not going to have you faint and risk having you, or the baby, hurt,” he answered, continuing up the marble steps with single-minded focus. “Isn’t your room up here somewhere?”
“On the second floor, yes. But I won’t faint—”
“Good.” He shifted her weight in his arms as he reached the top stair. “Right or left?”
She peeked over his shoulder, saw the familiar hall with ivory-painted woodwork, gleaming chandeliers overhead and the pale gold-and-ivory carpet runner underfoot. “Right. But I can walk—”
“Fantastic.
