Royals: Chosen By The Prince. Rebecca Winters

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the bed.

      He hadn’t walked out.

      He wasn’t her father.

      This was different.

      Or was it?

      Feeling unsettled, confused and desperately hurt, she lay on her back, staring up at the canopy of the four-poster bed.

      Rejection wasn’t new to her, was it?

      So why did it hurt so badly?

      Eventually the noise of the shower stopped and moments later Casper strolled back into the bedroom. He’d pulled on a black robe and his hair was still damp from the shower.

      Without looking at her, he walked into what she presumed was a dressing room and emerged wearing a pair of trousers, a fresh shirt in his hand.

      ‘Aren’t you coming back to bed? Did I say something?’ Feeling intensely vulnerable, Holly sat up in the bed and twisted the ends of her hair with nervous fingers. ‘One minute we were lying there having a cuddle and the next you sprang out of bed and stalked off. I feel as though you’re upset, but I don’t know why.’

      ‘Go to sleep.’ He shrugged his shoulders into the shirt and fastened the buttons with strong, sure fingers. Those same fingers that had driven her wild.

      ‘How can I possibly sleep? Talk to me!’ Suddenly it felt wrong to be naked, and she reached for the silk nightdress that someone had laid next to her pillow and pulled it over her head. ‘What’s wrong? Is it the whole wedding thing?’ She wanted to ask whether he was thinking about the fiancée he should have married, Antonia, but she didn’t want to risk making the situation worse.

      ‘Go back to bed, Holly.’

      ‘How can I possibly do that? Don’t shut me out, Casper.’ Her voice cracked and she slid out of bed and walked over to him. ‘I’m your wife.’

      ‘Precisely.’ He looked at her then, and his eyes were cold as ice. ‘I have already fulfilled my side of the deal by marrying you.’

      Holly froze with shock. ‘Deal?’

      ‘You wanted a father for your baby. I needed an heir.’

      Her legs buckled and she sank down onto the edge of the bed. ‘You make it sound as though I picked you at random.’

      ‘Not at random. I think you targeted me very carefully.’

      ‘You still believe this isn’t your baby. Oh God. I really thought you’d changed your mind about that—you seemed different today—and when we—’ She glanced at the rumpled sheets on the bed, her eyes glistening with tears. ‘You made love to me and it felt—’

      ‘We had sex, Holly.’ His voice was devoid of emotion. ‘Love didn’t come into it, and it never will, make no mistake about that. Don’t do that female thing of turning a physical act into something emotional.’

      Her hopes exploded like a balloon landing on nails.

      ‘It wasn’t just the sex,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve been different today. Caring. Ever since the moment I arrived at the cathedral.’ Her voice cracked. ‘You’ve been smiling at me, you had your arm around me. You kissed me.’

      ‘We’re supposed to look as though we’re in love.’ Apparently unaffected by her mounting distress, he strode over to an antique table next to the window. ‘Do you want a drink?’

      ‘No. I don’t want a drink!’ Her heart was suddenly bumping hard and she felt physically sick. ‘Are you saying that everything that happened today was for the benefit of the crowd?’

      He poured himself a whisky but didn’t touch it. Instead he stared out of the window, his knuckles white on the glass, his handsome face revealing nothing of his thoughts. No emotion. ‘They wanted the fairy tale. We gave it to them. That’s what we royals have to do. We give the people what they want. In this case, a love match, a wedding and an heir.’

      She blinked rapidly, determined to hold back the tears. ‘So why did you marry me?’

      He lifted the glass to his lips. ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because you could have married someone you loved.’

      He lowered the glass without drinking. ‘I don’t want love.’

      Because he’d had it once and now it was gone?

      Holly’s throat closed. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say and a terrible way to feel,’ she whispered. ‘I know you lost and I know you must have suffered, but—’

      ‘You don’t know anything.’

      ‘Then tell me!’ She was crying openly now, tears flooding her cheeks. ‘I’m devastated that the whole of today was a sham. I know it’s difficult for you to talk about Antonia, and frankly it isn’t that easy to hear it, either. But I know we’re not going to have any sort of marriage unless we’re honest with each other.’

      Please don’t let him walk out on me. Please don’t let that happen.

      ‘Honest?’ He slammed the glass down onto the table and turned to look at her. ‘You lie about your baby, you lie all the way to the altar wearing your symbolic white dress, and then you suggest we’re honest? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?’

      ‘It’s your baby,’ Holly said hoarsely. Her insides were twisted in pain as she felt her new life crumbling around her. ‘And I don’t know how you can believe otherwise.’

      ‘Don’t you? Then let me tell you.’ He strolled towards her, his eyes glittering dark and deadly. ‘It can’t be my baby, Holly, because I can’t have children. I don’t know whose baby you’re carrying, my sweet wife, but I know for sure it isn’t mine. I’m infertile.’

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