His Forbidden Pregnant Princess (Mills & Boon Modern) (Conveniently Wed!, Book 21)

by Maisey Yates

  Love, for her, apart from her family, had always been a simple word.

  This was more. It created a seismic shift inside her, incited her to action. To open herself up and expose herself to hurt.

  The very last thing that love was was a feeling. It was so many other things first.

  She understood that then.

  Because until then, she had not loved Luca.

  But she did now. Deeply.

  “I must get myself presentable,” she said. And then she rose out of the bed, not covering herself at all, and walked over to the closet, where, at the moment their clothes were mingled. Would it always be like this? With their lives tangled together?

  She imagined that Luca fancied a royal marriage to be something based on tradition. That they would carry out their separate lives, in their separate quarters.

  But their parents hadn’t done that. His father, and her mother, had shared everything. Space. Life. Breath.

  That was what she wanted. She didn’t want to be the wife of his duty. She wanted to be the wife of his heart.

  She turned to face him, whatever words on her lips there had been dying the moment that her gaze connected with his. With the heat there. He was looking at her with a deep, ferocious hunger that made her feel...both happy and sad all at once.

  Luca wanted her. There was no denying that.

  But whatever else he felt...

  He was perfect. A man perfectly formed, with a wonderfully symmetrical face, classically handsome features that his aristocratic air pushed over into being devastating. His physique was well muscled, his hands large and capable. So wonderful to be held by.

  But he was scarred. Inside, he was destroyed.

  And no one looking at him would have any clue.

  She wondered...

  She wondered if there was any way to reach past those scars.

  Any way to touch his heart.

  She turned away from him again, concentrating on dressing herself. She selected a rather somber black sheath dress, not one that would be approved by the new stylist, but one that would best suit their return back to the country. She had a feeling they would be trying to strike a tone that landed somewhere between defiance and contrition. Not an easy thing to do. But they would have to be resolute in what they had chosen, while being mindful of the position the nation was put in due to the scandal.

  He was distant the entire plane ride back to San Gennaro, but she wasn’t overly surprised by that. He was trying to rebuild that wall. Brick by brick. Oh, not to keep out that physical lust. Not anymore.

  But that new emotional connection that had been forged last night...

  He wanted badly to turn away from that. And she didn’t know how to press it. She had always imagined she had lived the harder life. She was from poverty, after all. She had a father who didn’t want her. She knew what it was to go to bed hungry. She’d been fortunate enough to come into a wonderful life at the palace, but it had been foreign to her. Filled with traditions and silverware that were completely unfamiliar to her.

  But now she knew different.

  Now she knew that incredible strength could mask unfathomable pain. The walls of a palace could not keep out predators when they had simply been let in.

  When the plane descended it felt like a heavyweight was pushing them down toward the ground. Or perhaps that was just the feeling inside her chest. Heaviness.

  She wished they could stay on the island. That they could stay in a world where rigorous walks on the beach and lazy lovemaking sessions in a tub were the most pressing things between them.

  She had to wonder... If they had not spoken last night...would he be ready to fly back today? Would he be so dead set on their need to return home?

  She wondered if he wasn’t facing his duty so much as running from her.

  No, that wasn’t fair.

  If there was one thing Luca was not, it was a coward. He would forcefully tell her he didn’t want to speak of something, that was certain, but he would not run.

  “Prepare yourself,” he said, the first words he had spoken to her in hours as the plane door opened.

  And indeed, his words were not misplaced. Their car was down there waiting for them, but it was surrounded. Bodyguards were doing their best to keep the horde at bay, but camera flashes were going off, blinding Sophia as they made their way down the stairs and toward the limousine.

  Luca wrapped his arm tightly around her and guided her into the car, speaking firmly in Italian before closing the door behind them.

  “We will have to speak to them, won’t we?” she asked as the car attempted to maneuver its way through the throng.

  “Eventually,” he said. “But I will do it on my own terms. I am the king of this nation, and I will not be led around by the dictates of the press. Yes, we have answers to give. Yes, we must return and create a solid front for the country. But I will not stand on the tarmac and give an interview like some fame whore reality TV star.”

  She examined the hard line of his profile, shiver working its way down her spine.

  Everything he believed in was crumbling in front of him, and still, he was like granite. Protecting his image had been everything, because if it wasn’t...

  She felt like she’d been stabbed in the chest as she realized, fully, deeply, the cost of all this to him. How it linked to the pain of his past, and the decisions that had been made then.

  It made her want to fix it. To fix him. Because she had been part of this destruction. But she hadn’t understood.

  “Luca,” she said softly.

  “We don’t need to talk,” he said, firm and rigid. “There will be time later.”

  “Will there?”

  “We will have to prepare a statement.”

  * * *

  Preparing a statement was not the same as the two of them talking. But she wasn’t going to correct him on that score right now.

  Later, when she was installed back in her normal bedroom, alone, she wished she had pressed the issue.

  But Luca had been forceful and autocratic like he could be, and he had determined that the two of them should not do anything wildly different from normal until they figured out how they were going to handle the public fallout.

  She wished that she was in bed with him.

  But then, maybe it was good for her to have some time alone.

  She tossed and turned for a few moments, and then got out of bed. She crossed the large room, wearing only her nightgown, and padded out to the balcony. She leaned over the edge, staring out at the familiar grounds below, illuminated by the moonlight. She looked in the direction of the garden. Where all of this had started.

  She wouldn’t take it back. She simply wouldn’t.

  Not when being with him had opened the door to learning so much about herself.

  To learning about love.

  The discovery that she had been protecting herself all those years was a startling one, and yet, not surprising at the same time.

  The breeze kicked up, and she could smell the roses coming in on the wind, tangling through her hair. She closed her eyes. And for a moment she thought she might be able to smell Luca’s aftershave. His skin. That scent that had become so beloved, and so familiar.

  “Here you are.”

  She whirled around at the sound of his voice, only to see him standing in the doorway of the balcony, looking out.

  “Did you think I had jumped?”

  “I rather hoped you hadn’t.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to talk tonight.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

  He pushed away from the door frame, and came out onto the balcony. He was wearing the same white button-up he’d had on earlier, the top three buttons undone. She could imagine, so easily, what his muscular chest would look like. What it would feel like if she were to push her hand beneath the edge of the shirt and touch him. His hair was disheveled as though he had been running his hands through it. Her eye was drawn to
the gold wristwatch he was wearing. She didn’t know why. But it was sexy. Maybe it was just because to her, he was sexy.

  “I couldn’t sleep, either.” She frowned. “But I suppose that’s self-evident.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “It’s dark out here,” she said, lifting her shoulder.

  “What does that mean?”

  “We can talk in the dark.” She hadn’t meant to say that. But she wondered if it was true. If this balcony could act as a confessional, like their bed had done last night.

  “We can talk in the light just as well,” he said, his tone stiff.

  “No,” she said, weary. “I’m not sure we can. At least, I think it doesn’t make things easier.”

  “What is it you have to say?”

  “I hope that you have some things to say to me. But...”

  She wasn’t quite in a space where she wanted to confess her undying love. But she did want him to know... She wanted him to know something. “You know,” she said slowly. “After our parents were married...I saw my father. He found me. Actually, all of the press made it easy.”

  Luca frowned. “You were protected by guards.”

  “Yes. But they were hardly going to stop me from meeting with my father.”

  “I didn’t know about it.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t have. You were away at university by then. We saw each other for a while... Until your father refused to give him a substantial sum of money. I was so angry, Luca. I thought that your father was being cruel. Because after that my father took himself away from me. He didn’t want me. He never did. But I couldn’t see that. Not then. I was only thirteen, and it felt immeasurably awful to have my father taken from me simply because yours wouldn’t give him what he needed.”

  “What a terrible thing,” Luca said, his voice rough. “To be so badly used by a parent.”

  “But you know about that, don’t you? I didn’t think you did. I thought... I thought for you things were so easy. I admired you. Even when you weren’t nice to me. I admired how certain you were. How steady. You were all of these things that I could never be, wearing this position like a second skin. But now I know. I know what it costs you to stand up tall. And it only makes me admire you all the more.”

  He ignored her, walking over to the balcony, standing beside her. He gripped the railing, and she followed suit, their hands parallel to each other but not touching. Still, she could feel him. With every breath.

  “How did you come to be close with my father? After all that anger you had toward him?” Luca asked. He quite neatly changed the subject.

  But she didn’t mind talking about this. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to... Well, she wanted to give no less than she took.

  Or, what she hoped to take.

  “He proved to be the better man,” she said.

  “How?” He seemed hungry for that answer.

  “My father quit seeing me after your father refused to pay him off. Meanwhile, I was a wretch to your father. I was rude. I was insufferable. And he never once threatened to remove himself from my life. No. He only became more determined to forge a relationship with me. He refused to quit on me. Even when I was a monster. He could have... He could have simply let us exist in the same space. There was no reason that he had to try to have a relationship with me. But he did. He proved what manner of man he was through his actions. He showed me what strength was. What loyalty was.” She swallowed hard, her throat dry like sandpaper. “He demonstrated love to me. And I had certainly seen it coming from my mother. But not from anyone else. He made me feel like I was worth something.”

  Yes, the king had pursued her. Her affection. He had made that relationship absolutely safe for her before she had decided to give of herself. But when it came to Luca...it wasn’t the same.

  When it came to him, she might have to put herself out there first. And she...

  That was terrifying. She wasn’t sure she could.

  It wasn’t something she was sure she could do.

  If only he would...

  She bit her lip. “I was very grateful to have your father. He did a lot to repair the damage that my own father created.”

  “I can only hope to be half the father he was.”

  “Well, I hope to be as good of a mother as my own.”

  It was the first time they had really talked about the baby in those terms. It had all been about blood, and errors and duty. But it had been real. It had not been about being a mother and a father.

  “Your mother has always been good to me,” he said. “She never had a thing to prove, you know. Not a thing to hide. Not like my own mother did. She is a truly kind woman, who had many things said about her by the media. Cruel, unfair. But she held her head high. You are the same, Sophia. I know you are. You will show our child—son or daughter—how to do the same.”

  She ducked her head, her heart swelling. “I hope so.”

  “If it had to be that our child was born in scandal, there is no one I would trust better to teach him to withstand.”

  Suddenly, Luca released his hold on the railing and turned away from her. She felt the abandonment keenly. As if the air had grown colder. Darker.

  “Wait.” She held up her hand, even though he couldn’t see her. But he stopped, his shoulders held rigid. “I don’t... I’m not sorry. So you know. I don’t regret this.”

  Only the slight incline of his head indicated her words had meant something to him. The pause he took.

  “Good night, Sophia,” he said.

  She wanted to say more. The words gathered in her chest, climbed up her throat, tight in a ball like a fist. But she couldn’t speak them. So instead, she issued a request. “Stay with me. Tonight.”

  Then he took her by the hand, and led her to bed. And he did stay, all through the night.

  * * *

  It was surprising how quickly a royal wedding could be put together. Certainly, the wedding that they had assembled for Erik and Sophia had come together quickly enough, but this had been accomplished in lightning speed. They had handled the press a few days earlier, making a joint statement from the grounds of the palace, that had been streamed live over the internet and television. They had spoken about their commitment to San Gennaro, and to each other. And unsurprisingly it had been met with somewhat mixed reviews. But he had expected nothing less.

  There was no way they were going to have a universal buy-in from the public. Not given the state of things.

  They would have to win them over through the course of time. He had a feeling the baby would help.

  Babies often did.

  They were to be married in two days’ time, and truly, he couldn’t ask for things to be going much better than they were. He had Sophia in his bed every night, in spite of his determination that they would not carry on in that regard once they were back at the palace, and everything was going as smoothly as it possibly could. In terms of his lack of control when it came to bedding her...

  She was his weakness. That was the simple truth.

  He was a man who hadn’t afforded himself a weakness as long as he’d been a grown man. Sophia had always challenged him. Had always slipped beneath his resolve and made him question all that he knew about himself.

  He didn’t like it. But he rather did like sleeping skin to skin with her.

  Sacrifices had to be made.

  There would be a small gathering tonight, of the guests arriving for the upcoming union. Nothing large, like it would have been with more time. Like it would have been if there wasn’t a cloud hanging over the top of them.

  It would fade. Surely, it would fade.

  And if it didn’t? An interesting thought to have. He had been so wedded to his reputation, to guarding what everyone thought, the idea that he had no more control over it was...

  He frowned. He wasn’t even certain he cared.

  Sophia was the mother of his child. She was to be his wife. There was no arguing with that. And as she had said to him just the o
ther night...whatever people thought of him, he could rule. And he could do it well.

  The rest didn’t matter.

  “How are you finding things?” he asked as Sophia was ushered toward him at the entrance of the dining hall.

  She was wearing a dress of such a pale color that the sequins over the top of it looked as though they had been somehow fastened directly to her pale, smooth skin. It glittered with each step she took, and the top came to an artful V at her breasts, showing off those delicate curves in exquisite fashion.

  She took hold of his arm, looked up at him. “Entertaining dignitaries’ wives is a strange experience.”

  “But it is your life now,” he pointed out.

  She wilted somewhat at that.

  “I am sorry, cara mia,” he said, “but it cannot be ignored that being queen does carry its share of burdens. Your mother, I’m certain, knows all about that.”

  “Yes,” she said, though somewhat hesitant.

  He wondered what the caveat was, because there was one. He could hear it. Unspoken, deep down her throat. But they were walking into a dining room crowded full of people, half of whom were hoping they would be witnessing some sort of glorious meltdown, he was certain, so he was hardly going to broach the topic now.

  He sat at the head of the table, and Sophia had departed from him and made her way down to the foot.

  Tradition, he mused, was such a fascinating thing. Things like this... They formed from somewhere, and that demonstrated that humans could clearly create them out of thin air. On a whim. But there were certain points in history where tradition had simply been followed, and not created. As though someone else had made those rules, and human beings were bound to them. As though they could not be broken.

  Tradition. Appearances.

  Those things had been paramount to his mother, even while she had lived in exactly the fashion she had wanted. And he... He clung to it because it gave him a sense of purpose. Because it made him feel as if what had happened to him—and the lack of fallout after—had been unavoidable.

  It was the reason that he was seated across the room from Sophia now, when he would like her at his side.

  All of these fake rules.