by Maisey Yates
“Is he?” her mother asked finally.
“There’s something I have to tell you...”
“Oh, Sophia,” her mother said, the words mournful. “I had hoped... I had hoped that you had put your feelings for him behind you.”
“It’s his baby, Mother,” she said, the words coming out raw and painful.
More silence. But this one was full. Of emotion. Of words left unspoken. Sophia couldn’t breathe.
“I see,” the queen finally responded.
“We didn’t mean for... I tried... He tried.” She closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “We did try.”
“Just tell me he never took advantage of you when you were younger.” There was an underlying venom in her words that left Sophia in no doubt her mother would castrate Luca if the answer was yes.
Sophia shook her head, then realized her mother couldn’t see. “No. Never. It was just... This time was the first time. The time that we...the pregnancy, I mean. That was the first time”
“I knew,” her mother whispered. “But I hoped that it would pass. For both of you.”
“You knew that he... That he had feelings for me?”
“I knew that he desired you. Far sooner than he should have. And I told his father to keep him away from you. There was no future for the two of you, Sophia. You have to understand that.”
“I do,” she said. “Why do you think I was prepared to marry another man?”
“Yes, well, that has created quite a scandal.”
“Just wait until they find out what actually happened. I imagine my running off before the wedding is not half as salacious as the fact that I have run off with my stepbrother because I’m having his baby.”
Her mother groaned, a long, drawn-out sound. “Sophia... The scandal this will cause.”
Sophia cringed, feeling desperately sad to hear such distress in her mother’s voice. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry I disappointed you.”
Her mother’s voice softened. “I’m not disappointed. But it’s a hard road, Sophia. Being married to a king. And that’s simply when you’re a commoner. I cannot imagine how difficult things will be for you and Luca. All things considered. I had hoped that you could avoid it.”
“We did. Until we couldn’t.”
She was embarrassed to be talking with her mother in this frank fashion. Until only recently she had been a virgin, after all, and now she was confessing that she had been overwhelmed by a state of desire. Her mother knew full well what that meant.
“If it was love...” Her mother trailed off.
Sophia’s shoulders stiffened, her back going straight, a pain hitting her in the stomach. “If it was love, I never would have pretended I might be able to marry Erik. Luca does not love me.”
But she did wonder if perhaps marrying Erik had been about running away. Not from scandal, not even from this conversation with her mother.
From all that Luca made her feel. All he made her want.
“He is a good man,” her mother said as if trying to offer her some consolation.
“I know he is. Too good for such a scandal.”
“But too good to turn away from his responsibility. Still... I have to wonder if it would’ve been better if he would have allowed you to marry Erik.”
Those words went through her like a lance. “Why?”
“If he can’t love you...”
Her mother’s choice of words there was interesting. If he couldn’t love her. Did that mean that her mother thought she was difficult to love, too? Or did she believe that Luca had a difficult time loving?
In many ways Sophia wondered if they were both true.
She didn’t want to love him. That much was certain. Whatever she felt was far too bright and painful all on its own.
“I’m not sure I love him,” she said truthfully. “I only know that whatever this is between us is undeniable. And he has chosen to make a scandal. I will only go so far to protect him. I’m not going to force him to disavow his child.”
“Of course not. But, Sophia, it’s going to be such a difficult life. Where are you? I feel like I should come and get you.”
“I—”
The door opened and she turned sharply. Luca was standing there, regarding her with dark eyes. His expression was like a storm, his mouth set into a firm line.
“I have to go.”
She hung up the phone, much to her mother’s protests. And then Luca walked over to the phone and unplugged the power cord from the base. “I do not wish to be disturbed,” he said. “How much did you tell your mother?”
“I told her that I’m having your baby.”
He chuckled, bitter and hard. “I imagine her faith in me is greatly reduced by this news.”
Sophia wrapped her arms around herself. “She said that she always knew. That you wanted me. That I wanted you.”
“Fascinating,” he said, not sounding at all fascinated. “But you had no idea, did you?”
“I didn’t,” she said truthfully. “I thought you despised me.”
“You refused to be any less attractive to me, no matter how the years went on. You refused to shrink. You refused to be invisible. I certainly despised you, Sophia, but my desire for you is not exclusive from that.”
“That’s beautiful, Luca. Perhaps you should take up poetry.”
“How’s this for poetry? You’re mine now.” He took a step toward her, grabbing hold of the sheet that she had resolutely wrapped around her curves, and he pulled her to him, wrenching the soft, exquisite cotton from her body. “There is to be no doubt of that.”
She stood there, naked and trembling, feeling hideously exposed in ways that went well beyond her skin.
“Then that makes you mine,” she shot back, feeling run out and fragile after the day she had had. “Doesn’t it?”
His dark eyes sharpened. “I’m not sure I get your meaning.”
“If I belong to you, then I require nothing less. If we are to be married, Luca, I will be the only woman in your bed. You have all of me or you have none of me.”
“I was never going to be unfaithful to whatever wife I took. I would hardly be unfaithful to you.”
Electricity crackled between them, and neither spoke what was so patently obvious. So obvious that it lit the air between them with electricity.
That at least for now, there was no chance either of them would take another to their beds. They would have to exhaust the intense desire between the two of them first, and at the moment Sophia could not imagine it. Granted, she was new to sex, but she had a feeling that what existed between herself and Luca was uncommon in every way.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice small, taking a step away from him.
“Tonight? Tonight I intend to take you back to my bed, spread you out before me and feast on you until you’re crying out my name. Until my name is synonymous with lover, not brother.”
His words set a rash of heat over her body. “I mean, about us. About telling the world about us. About our upcoming marriage. About...what we are going to do next.”
“I’m going to make a press release to go out tomorrow morning. And you and I will stay here incommunicado until some of the furor dies down. Then I will marry you. Not in that dress,” he said, looking at the scrap of white on the floor.
“I think that dress is beyond saving now,” she mused.
He looked at her, his dark eyes suddenly bleak. “Who knew I would have something in common with a gown.”
But before she had a chance to question such an odd statement, she was back in his arms, and he was kissing her again. And she had a feeling that there would be no more talking tonight.
* * *
The next morning Luca was full of purpose when he awoke. Sophia was naked, soft and warm, pressed up against his body, one breast resting at his biceps. She was sleeping peacefully, her dark hair a halo of curls on the pillow around her head. He had done it. He had destroyed everything.
It was strang
ely satisfying. A perfect and sustained string of curses directed to his mother even if it was going to have to make its way into the beyond.
A scandal she would not be able to squash.
He supposed it was unkind to think poorly of one’s dead mother. But he could not find a kind thought for his own.
Strange, how he spent very little time thinking about her. He had already made decisions about himself, about his life, based on the events that had occurred in his childhood. He didn’t have to think about them every day.
Truthfully, he didn’t even have to think about them yearly. He spent a great deal of time not pondering the ways in which he was damaged, and even when he didn’t think of it, typically in reference to why he had to keep his hands off Sophia—a horse that had well and truly left the barn now—it was only in terms of his scarred soul, not in terms of actual events.
This forced him to think of it. The fact that his responsible, pristine image was about to be destroyed, made him think of it.
No one can ever know about this. If your father knew about Giovanni our marriage would be over. And can you imagine what people would think of you? They would never forget, Luca. It is all you would ever be.
He gritted his teeth and got out of bed, staring out the window at the ocean below.
He had a press release to prepare.
He set about to doing just that, contacting his palace staff and letting his majordomo know exactly what had transpired. Exactly what would be happening from here on out. If the other man was shocked, he did not let on. But then, he supposed it was in the other man’s job description to remain impassive about such things.
Luca also left instruction to keep his and Sophia’s location secret.
With that taken care of, Luca decided that he needed to figure out what he was going to do with his fiancée. That was how he would think of her from now on. Until, that was, he was able to think of her as his wife. She was no longer first and foremost his stepsister.
In his mind, she never had been.
And that meant that he had to get to know her.
He had avoided that. For years he had avoided that. Of course he had. He had not wanted to foster any kind of attraction between them.
It had turned out that was futile anyway, because the attraction between them had been hell-bent on growing no matter what either of them did.
Now the fact remained, he was going to marry her, and he didn’t know her at all.
That was not actually a point of contention for him, but he would have to be able to make conversation about her. They would have to be able to come to an accord on how they talked about their relationship.
And he had a feeling that Sophia would want to feel as if she knew him.
He had done what he had intended to do by bringing her here to the island. He had isolated her. And he had managed to get her into proximity with him. To keep her from marrying Erik. But he would not be able to keep her here forever. That meant that something other than kidnap was going to have to bind them. Eventually. Something other than sex would help, as well.
Although at the moment the sex was enough for him.
His staff had generously stocked the kitchen with a basket of croissants. Opening the fridge, he found a tray of fruit, figs and dates. Cheeses. Then, there was a pot of local honey in a small jar on the counter. He cobbled those things together, along with herbal tea, and brought them up to the bedroom. When he opened the door, Sophia shifted, making a sleepy sound.
She opened her eyes, and he could see the exact moment her vision came into focus.
She frowned. “Is that for me?”
“Yes,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
He was gratified to see that her gaze drifted away from the food and onto his chest, which was still currently fair. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away.
It pleased him to see that she was not immune to him.
That someone so soft and lovely could be so affected by him.
He shoved that thought to the side.
“That’s...kind of you.” She shifted, pushing herself into a sitting position, holding her sheets against her breasts modestly. “What is this?” She opened up the pot sitting on the tray and frowned deeply. “This isn’t coffee.”
“You’re pregnant,” he pointed out. “I believe I recall hearing that pregnant women should not drink caffeine.”
“Not too much caffeine.” She sounded truly distressed. “That doesn’t mean I have to drink...herbs.”
“I was only doing the best I could. I’m not an expert.”
“That might be a first,” she said.
“What?”
She treated him to a smile that was almost impish. Something he wasn’t used to having directed at him. “You admitting that you don’t know everything.”
“Sophia...” he said, his tone full of warning.
“You can’t tell me it isn’t true.”
“I was raised to be arrogant. It’s part and parcel to being in charge.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Nobody wants an uncertain king.”
“Perhaps. But no one wants an insufferable husband, either.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Sophia reached into the basket and procured herself a croissant.
“You like coffee,” he said.
She lifted a shoulder. It was gloriously bare and he knew now from experience that her skin was as soft as it looked. He wished to lick her. If only because he had spent so many years not licking her. “Yes.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Almost everyone likes coffee. Or needs it, if it comes down to it.”
“But we have never discussed what you like. Or what you don’t like.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, and that should’ve been an indicator that this was not going according to plan, as he really should have guessed that Sophia was never going to be anything like compliant.
“Well,” she said, “I like coffee, as established. My hobbies include getting fitted for wedding gowns that will eventually be torn off my body, and being kidnapped and spirited away to a private island.”
Luca cast her a hard look. “Much more exotic than stamp collecting, you have to admit.”
“Indeed. Although, my wretched dress is not going to increase in value. A stamp collection might.”
“I beg to differ. By the time news of our union hits global media I imagine that torn gown will be worth quite a bit.”
Sophia frowned, grabbing a strawberry from the fruit tray and biting into it angrily. “Global media,” she muttered around the succulent fruit.
“There is no way around it. We are a headline, I think you will find.”
“I tried not to find.”
“Sophia,” he said, suddenly weary of games. “There was no other alternative. No other outcome, and you know that. It was always going to be this.”
He meant because of the baby. And yet, he couldn’t escape feeling that there was something else in those words. Some other, deeper truths being hinted at.
“We tried,” she said, sounding desolate.
“Not that night. Not the night of the ball.”
She looked up at him, her expression quizzical. “Really?”
“You know it’s true,” he said. “Had I tried, I would never have touched you. But I didn’t. It was simply that what I wanted became so much more powerful than what I should do. And I could not... Could not allow him to touch you.”
“We would have allowed him to touch me last night,” she said quietly, picking at a fig.
“He didn’t,” Luca said. “That’s all that matters.”
“Luca,” she said, looking up at him, her expression incisive. “Why is reputation so important to you? I mean, beyond the typical reasons. Beyond the reasons that most rulers have. You have never been... I knew your father. I loved him. As my own father. He was the only father I ever knew. He was serious, and he treated his position with much gravi
ty. But it’s not like you. You do everything with such gravity. And I... Truthfully, whether you believe me or not, part of the reason I didn’t tell you is that I didn’t want to put this on you. I know how much your country means to you...”
“Not more than my child,” he said, fire rising up in his chest, bile in his throat. “Nothing matters more than my child, Sophia, you must know that. The moment those test results came across my desk I had to know. I will not sacrifice my child on an altar with my country’s name stamped onto it. With my reputation on it. My name is only a name. The baby you carry is my blood.” He took a deep breath. “What good is a legacy if you don’t defend the ones who are supposed to carry it out when you die?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she sounded it. “You’re right. For all that we...” She squeezed her eyes shut. “For all that I have carried a certain fascination for you for a great number of years, I don’t know you.” She opened her eyes, tears glistening in them. “If I could guess at this so wrong, then it is apparent there are things I don’t know.”
“You’re not wrong,” he said, the word scraping his throat. “On any score with this, I would have protected the name. But not at the expense of a child.”
It was the breaking point. Because if the name didn’t matter, then what he had endured, then the lack of action his mother had taken to defend him, would be null and void, and that was unfathomable to him in many ways. This was where the corner turned. Where it became far too close to what had been done to him. And that, he could not allow.
“What are we going to do today?” The question was open, honest, and it made him feel strange.
“I had not given it much thought.”
That was a lie. What he wanted, what he wanted more than anything, was to strip her completely naked, rip that sheet right off her as he had done last night, and keep her that way for the entire day.
“Your wardrobe should arrive soon,” he said instead of that. “And then of course, there is the beach, and the pool.”
“Badminton,” she pointed out. “We used to play badminton.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“We’re rather cut off here, Luca,” she said. “I was thinking of all the things we used to do to entertain ourselves.”
