protection. He would never be that careless.
Except he hadn’t!
He had been that careless.
The details came back in a blinding flash. He’d heard of his half-brothers’ arrests and of their implication in their father’s death. He’d learned that Montvelatte’s existence balanced on a knife edge. And he’d been blind with anger and fury and rage that they could have been so arrogant and so self-absorbed that they had done this with pure greed in mind, and that they hadn’t seen where they were heading. So blind with anger that he hadn’t stopped to think, hadn’t hesitated before burying himself one last time deep inside the woman who’d just happened to be there.
Had that momentary loss of control done this, resulted in a child? Was it his?
She’d almost got away. He’d been that close to letting her go, angry that she could deny him the pleasure he’d find with her, and so close to letting her walk out of his life for ever.
Would he ever have found out if she’d gone? She might never have told him.
Six weeks. Coincidence? Or fate?
Whichever, she wasn’t getting away before he found out for sure.
The doctor had finished his report. ‘Can I see her?’
‘Certainly. Though be gentle. Right now she’s a little emotionally fragile.’
Rafe blew out his breath in a rush. ‘I’ll just bet she is.’
Moments later he paused outside her room, his anger festering inside him, a living thing. He’d paced the terrace for endless minutes, working out the possibilities. If she’d told him last night that she was pregnant with someone else’s child, if she’d thrown it in his face then and there, he would have left her alone. But she hadn’t said a word. And six to eight weeks? Surely she must have known something? Was that the real reason she’d declined to have any wine?
He thought back on her determination to escape the island. She’d been desperate to get away. So desperate to escape that she’d risk flying a helicopter when she was in danger of passing out at the controls. If those facts weren’t enough to spell out her guilt, he didn’t know what was.
She didn’t want him to know.
Which could only mean one thing.
It had to be his.
He hauled in a lungful of air, felt the oxygen fuel the fury inside him until it was in danger of combusting, until he wanted to howl at the irony.
All that time Sebastiano had been doing his utmost to find Montvelatte the perfect breeding stock.
All that time Sebastiano had spent ensuring Montvelatte would not be left without an heir.
And all that time there had been one all along.
It was a disaster. Sienna pushed herself back into pillows damp with tears, unable to assimilate the new-found knowledge, unable to come to terms with the physician’s declaration.
There was nothing wrong with her, he’d calmly informed her, in the very same breath he’d dropped the bombshell that she was pregnant and suffering nothing more debilitating than morning sickness.
Nothing wrong. That was a laugh, when her entire world was shattering to pieces around her. Nothing wrong, when, in fact, nothing could be less right.
And so she’d argued and remonstrated with him. It had been too late in her cycle and she’d had a period, admittedly light, but then she’d only just come off the pill. It couldn’t be possible.
And the doctor had looked benignly down at her as he’d clicked up his bag and explained that there was no mistake, that coming off the pill so recently meant her cycle could be late, and that the light period she’d assumed she’d had was most likely no more than an implantation bleed.
And then he’d asked her what she did for a living and warned her that she might have to think about not flying for a while. Not flying? Flying was her job. She’d just got the job of her dreams. It was her life!
And now she knew that the churning in her stomach was nothing to do with any morning sickness, but a gut-wrenching reaction to the news.
She was pregnant. With Rafe’s child. That alone was bad enough. But he wasn’t just a man any more.
He was a prince.
She screwed her face into the pillow and tried unsuccessfully to stem a fresh batch of tears. This couldn’t be happening to her. Not with him. Not now.
He might be the father of the baby growing inside her, but he was expected to marry. Someone suitable. Someone worthy of being Montvelatte’s princess.
Someone else.
Not some no-name commoner from a dysfunctional family who’d spent one night with him and ended up pregnant.
Which was fine, because she didn’t damn well want any man on those terms anyway.
Sienna sniffed and sat up, grabbing a tissue to wipe away the moisture on her cheeks and blow her nose. Damn it all. Lying here crying wouldn’t help; she had to pull herself together and get moving. She shoved back the covers and eased herself up to sitting on the side of the bed, swallowing air, waiting until the rocking motion inside her settled before she trusted her feet to hold her up.
Rafe wanted her gone from the island, he’d made that crystal clear, so she would oblige. And, let’s face it, the last thing either he or Montvelatte needed right now was the scandal of an unplanned pregnancy with someone unsuitable. So she would get dressed and fly back to Genoa as soon as this damned nausea settled down. As soon as she’d come to terms with the shock of this latest bombshell.
Except that she was pregnant.
How was anyone supposed to terms with something like that?
There was a sharp rap on the door before it swung open, revealing the person she least wanted to see in the world. Her heart slammed into his chest as his dark eyes honed in on her, intent but frustratingly unreadable. Please God, the doctor had not shared her news!
She was dressed in some kind of white nightgown that fitted over her breasts and then fell softly to her ankles and he gave a silent tick of approval for whoever had released her hair from that damned braid so now it rioted around her face in a mass of colour and curl.
She looked like a virgin on her way to a sacrifice.
And then he took in her wide red-rimmed eyes, the eyes that looked up at him with something akin to terror, and revised the description. She looked like hell. As guilty as hell.
‘What are you doing out of bed?’
‘I was just getting up,’ she protested, through lips inordinately pale. ‘Or I was, until you once again decided to invite yourself in unannounced. So if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get dressed.’
‘I thought you were sick.’
‘I’m
