Royals: For Their Royal Heir: An Heir Fit for a King / The Pregnant Princess / The Prince's Secret Baby (Mills & Boon M&B)

by Abby Green

  “Thank you for the advice. I’m sure it will prove invaluable.”

  His mouth tightened and she was pleased to see that she was annoying him. He didn’t speak to her again, but picked up the phone that was installed in the truck and punched in a number, then tapped his fingers impatiently against the wheel while he waited.

  She wondered who he was calling, then decided she didn’t really care. But she couldn’t prevent herself from glancing over at him.

  “Hey, gorgeous!” Rafe suddenly became animated. Apparently someone had answered on the other end. Someone female, she suspected, from the way his face relaxed and his teeth flashed in a grin that sent an arrow through her heart. He’d smiled at her like that once, she remembered.

  And you fell for it, dummy.

  “In the desert,” he said and she reasoned that the woman had asked him where he was. “Listen,” he said, “I have a weird question. I need to know the name and number of a reputable obstetrician in Phoenix.”

  There was silence on his end and one black eyebrow quirked up, then he laughed, a low and intimate chuckle that set Elizabeth’s teeth on edge. “A friend,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”

  He scrabbled in the side pocket on his door and came up with a piece of paper and a pencil, tossing them at Elizabeth. “Write this down,” he mouthed.

  She glared at him, but as he repeated the name and number she did take them down, then slid the paper back across the seat to him.

  “Okay, babe. You’re one in a million. I’ll call you later today.” Removing the phone from his ear, he punched the button to cut off the connection and let it dangle from his fingers for a moment while he drove. Then he studied the information on the paper and dialed again.

  While he was talking, Elizabeth sat in miserable silence. Could things get any worse? Obviously, Rafe had a girlfriend, or someone special in his life. The silly fantasies she’d woven about him—about them together—seemed pathetic and ridiculous now. How could she have been so stupid? She might have led a somewhat sheltered life, but she knew what the world was like. Men got women pregnant every day of the week because they acted on sexual attraction without thinking. The resulting condition had nothing to do with affection or love or respect or long-term plans.

  Now she was another one of those sad statistics, and her child would be fatherless because of her carelessness.

  The words appointment this morning, penetrated her absorption, and she was startled into looking over at Rafe again.

  “No! I don’t need a doctor.”

  He ignored her.

  “I won’t go.” She tugged at his forearm to get his attention. A mistake. Beneath her fingers, his bare flesh was hot, and the thick hair that grew along his arm was silky in texture.

  “Cancel it,” she said fiercely.

  “Thorton,” he said to the person on the phone. “Elizabeth Thorton.”

  Her fingers clenched on his arm. Then she realized she was still holding on to him and she snatched back her hand. Again his eyebrow slid up into a bold dark arch as he threw her a questioning look. But before she could find her voice, he’d concluded the call and hung up again.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Making you a doctor’s appointment,” he said easily. “I want to make sure you and the baby are none the worse for wear after spending the morning standing in the sun.”

  “I don’t need a doctor. Go on back to your girlfriend and leave me alone.” She tried to infuse the words with command, but even to her she sounded weak and cranky.

  “My girlfriend…” He shot her a smug grin. “That was my secretary on the phone. She has twin grandsons, so she’s not exactly competition.”

  “I’m not competing.” So there. “Why didn’t you use my real name?”

  “Would you rather I’d given your real name?” he asked.

  She drew in a sharp breath as his words penetrated, then slumped back against the seat. “No,” she admitted in a muted tone. “My parents don’t know yet.”

  “Mind if I ask how long you were going to wait?” He sounded more than slightly shocked.

  “I wanted to tell you first,” she said quietly. “When I get home, there won’t be any reason to delay.”

  “You’re going home soon?”

  Did she imagine the slight sharpness in his tone? She shrugged. “As soon as my business here is concluded.”

  “Your business in Catalina? You never did tell me why you were going there.”

  “No,” she said with more calm than she felt. “I didn’t.”

  Three

  She wasn’t one bit happy with him, Rafe reflected as he unlocked the door of his Phoenix home shortly after lunch. He eyed the rigid line of Elizabeth’s back and the regal tilt of her small, dimpled chin. They didn’t call her Princess for nothing.

  When she’d realized that despite her protests he was adamant about taking her to a doctor, she’d become quietly furious. Through the appointment, and the quick lunch they’d had afterward, she hadn’t spoken one word to him beyond the absolute minimum civility required. If she appreciated his concern for protecting her anonymity, it sure didn’t show.

  Now he ushered her into his spacious foyer, wondering what she thought of the skylights that let in the bright, cheerful sunlight, the flagstone floors and the soft pastel colors of the desert that he’d wanted for his private spaces. He’d designed it himself, initially intending to use it as a display for potential clients. But he’d liked it so much, he hadn’t been able to part with it in the end.

  Elizabeth halted about three feet into the foyer and turned to face him. “May I use your telephone, please? I’ll put any charges on my calling card.”

  He glared at her, oddly disappointed that she didn’t even seem to notice his home, and irritated that she would bring up a silly thing like telephone charges. “The phone is right through here.”

  He showed her into his casually appointed den, then left her to go into the kitchen and get each of them a cold drink. The doctor had felt that Elizabeth was in good condition although he had advised her to drink plenty of fluids while she was in Arizona, a dictate Rafe fully intended to see she followed.

  From his vantage point around the corner he could clearly hear Elizabeth’s conversation. His upbringing and conscience protested the eavesdropping, but since she wouldn’t talk to him, he told himself he’d have to find out all he could through any method available.

  “Yes, this is Elizabeth. Is my mother there?”

  A ten-pound load dropped from Rafe’s shoulders. So she wasn’t calling another man! She was calling her parents. Not that it mattered terribly to him, he assured himself.

  “Mummy? Hello, it’s Eliz—yes, yes, I’m fine. Yes, I was afraid you’d worry since I didn’t call on time. Oh, please don’t cry. Mummy? Maybe you’d better put Daddy on the line.”

  There was a pause, and Rafe remembered to clink a few ice cubes around in the glasses so she wouldn’t think he was spying.

  “Hello, Daddy. Of course I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call first thing this morning as I promised. I rented a car but it broke down on a highway while I was on a little day trip. But I’m fine. I’ve met someone you know. Well, I suppose he’s an American now, but he was from Thortonburg once. He calls himself Rafe Thorton now, but you know him as the Prince of Thortonburg. What’s that? Oh, no, I doubt I’ll see much of him. It was really more of a courtesy call on his part—Rafe!” She glared at him as he removed the receiver from her hand and held it to his own ear.

  “Hello, Your Majesty. This is Thorton.” He knew he sounded clipped and discourteous, but talking to King Phillip was the last thing he’d planned on doing today. Or any day, for that matter.

  “Hello, Raphael.” The King’s voice sounded warm and cordial. “It’s been far too long. The States must agree with you.” He didn’t sound annoyed, particularly.

  “Give me that!” Elizabeth reached for the phone he’d taken out of her hand,
but he held it above her head until she hissed at him and backed off.

  He couldn’t resist grinning at her as he returned the receiver to his ear. She might pretend to be a lady, but there was fire beneath her calm surface. “Excuse me, Your Majesty. I rescued your daughter this morning from a spot of folly. Did she tell you she had no bodyguard or driver with her?”

  “No one at all?” King Phillip sounded alarmed, but not particularly surprised. “I’m afraid Elizabeth doesn’t fully understand how careful she must be. She and her youngest sister spent hours trying to outwit their bodyguards as children. She’d become quite adept at sneaking about, and it’s made her a bit overconfident.”

  “I agree, Your Majesty. I was a bit concerned myself.”

  “Thank you for your assistance.” The monarch’s tones were as friendly as Rafe remembered from his childhood. He never had been able to understand how a man who appeared as nice as the King could conspire with a man as class-conscious as his own father. “Elizabeth will soon be leaving. I believe the dedication ceremony occurred yesterday.”

  “It did.” Rafe hesitated. He should be leaping at the chance to get the princess out of his hair, but the thought of her flying back to Wynborough, thousands of miles away, bothered him. He needed more time to think, to decide how to handle this sticky situation with her and the baby before he let her get away.

  “Sir, I don’t believe the princess should fly right now,” he said, turning his broad back on Elizabeth’s accusatory face. “She was through a bit of an ordeal this morning. Nothing serious, of course, but I’d be happy to offer her my hospitality until she feels herself again.”

  “Thank you, Raphael.” The King sounded relieved. “That’s quite kind of you to look after her for us.”

  “It will be my pleasure to look after her,” he said, turning to pin Elizabeth with a meaningful glance.

  Her fair skin colored. She avoided his gaze as she reached for the phone, which he let her have this time. “Daddy, I’m twenty-seven years old,” she said into the receiver. “I hardly think I need looking after. In fact, I’d planned on leaving Phoenix today. I want to do a little sightseeing and then I’ll be returning to Mitch and Alexandra’s for a few days before I come home.” She laughed a little, but to Rafe’s ears it was a forced sound. “Yes, I know I’m the only one left. No, I promise I won’t run off with a cowboy.”

  Damn right she wouldn’t, he thought.

  After a few more exchanges, she punched the button that ended the call and replaced the phone in its cradle. For a moment she simply stood, one hand on the receiver, and Rafe could practically feel the weariness radiating from her.

  “Have you a telephone book?” she asked without looking at him.

  “What for?”

  She sighed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’d like to call a taxi and return to the hotel.”

  “No.”

  Clearly startled, she turned and stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t think you should return to the hotel right now.” His brain was racing a mile a minute. “You look exhausted. Why don’t I show you to a guest room and you can rest for a little while, then I’ll take you back when you’re refreshed.”

  She hesitated. “No, I really—”

  “I insist,” he broke in smoothly. Without giving her a chance to argue further, he took her elbow and led her down the wide wood-floored hall to the second room on the left. “Consider this yours for the time being,” he said.

  Elizabeth looked around, then turned to survey him suspiciously. “Why do I get the feeling you’re plotting something?”

  “You have an overactive imagination,” he said, shrugging.

  She stared at him for a second longer, then let out her breath in a long sigh. “Thank you for your offer. I’ll just rest for a little while, and then I can get myself back to the hotel.”

  He shut her in the bedroom before she could change her mind, hoping she didn’t notice that he hadn’t agreed. Then he strolled back to the kitchen and picked up the telephone. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  When she woke, it was twilight. Twilight! Momentarily panicked, not recognizing the quietly attractive room around her, she sprang out of the bed—

  And had to sit back down quickly when the room spun around her.

  As she sat waiting for the alarming vertigo to abate, memory sneaked back. A second glance around the room confirmed her recall. This wasn’t a hotel room. She was in a guest bedroom at Rafe Thorton’s home.

  She glanced at her watch and was appalled to see it was after six. She’d slept the entire afternoon away!

  There was a telephone on the table beside the bed and she decided she’d better use it while she had the chance. Fishing the paper with Sam Flynn’s number on it out of her bag, she quickly punched the buttons.

  It was an office number, she realized when an answering machine picked up. And as she listened to the message, her heart sank. Mr. Flynn would be out of town on business for several days. Emergency calls were referred to another number.

  Somehow, she didn’t think another person could help her. She’d just have to wait until Sam was back again.

  A spacious bath off the bedroom afforded her the opportunity to freshen up before she twisted the doorknob and stepped into the hall. She had to resist the urge to tiptoe as she walked into the comfortably decorated family room.

  Rafe was nowhere in sight. A pass-through counter at one side of the room connected it with the kitchen so she walked through the nearby doorway. She had to admit, his taste was impeccable. Done in a blond wood that complemented the muted tones echoed in the family room, Rafe’s kitchen was sleek and modern yet still warm and inviting.

  Wide French doors at one end led to a covered terrace, beyond which lay a glistening blue pool. And in the pool, she could see a dark head and powerful arms that were rhythmically slicing through the water. Rafe.

  The muscles in her stomach contracted involuntarily, and her breasts felt as if they tightened as well, drawing her flesh taut and smooth as if waiting to welcome him.

  No! How dumb could one woman be? How pathetic? He’d made it more than plain that he didn’t want her. Stupid as it had been, she’d come here hoping, maybe even expecting him to greet her with…affection. Warmth. She’d dreamed of his delight at learning she carried his child and of how he’d cuddle and coddle her through the rest of the pregnancy.

  Well, she wasn’t dreaming anymore. And the ache that seemed to have settled permanently around her heart was only because her child was going to grow up without the traditional family she’d believed was possible.

  Opening one of the doors, she stepped through onto the terrace.

  Immediately Rafe altered his pattern, cutting through the pool to the side nearest her. “Welcome back,” he said, a grin lighting his chiseled features and giving him the handsome, roguish look she remembered so well. “I thought maybe you’d sleep straight through ’til tomorrow.”

  “Hardly.” She kept her voice low and expressionless. “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can get a cab out here.”

  “Elizabeth…” He said her name in a hesitant manner at odds with his usual imperiousness.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re going to have a hard time getting a cab out here.”

  “Not if I make the deal sweet enough.” She spoke with the confidence born of growing up with money and seeing its tiresomely predictable effect on people.

  “The thing is…” He let his voice trail off as he put both hands on the side of the pool and smoothly lifted himself from the water, the powerful muscles in his back and shoulders flexing and bulging and sliding over each other in a way that made her mouth go dry and her heart thump in her breast.

  He straightened, taking the single step that brought him to her side. His wet bathing trunks molded steely thighs, defining well-remembered muscle. Little drops of water caught in his eyelashes, his beard stubble, clung to hi
s wide shoulders. The water caught in the curls springing from his chest succumbed to gravity’s pull and began a steady trickle downward to his navel and below.

  She had to force herself not to let her gaze follow the droplets’ path. Instead, she repeated, “The thing is…?”

  “The thing is,” he said again, “you don’t have a room to return to anymore.”

  “I don’t—what? What do you mean?”

  Rafe crossed his arms. Part of her instinctively recognized the defensive posture and her own body tensed in response.

  “I checked you out of the hotel,” he said.

  Surely he couldn’t have said what she thought he’d said. She stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your bags are in the front hallway.”

  “Are you crazy?” She spun around and stalked back into the house, needing visual confirmation of his claim. Sure enough, the two big bags and smaller grip she’d brought from Alexandra’s were sitting in his foyer.

  Furious, she stalked back to where he dripped water on the kitchen floor. “What do you think you’re doing?” By the slimmest of margins she caught hold of her temper and reined it in.

  “Keeping you here for a while,” he said bluntly.

  “Keeping me…for what purpose?”

  “Because,” he said, and though his tone sounded reasonable and courteous, she got the impression he was gritting his teeth. “You can’t waltz into my life again, announce that you’re carrying my child and just leave.”

  “I made no such announcement,” she muttered.

  “What did you say?” He took her by the arms and turned her to face him, and she was overwhelmed by the power of his physical presence.

  “You can’t keep me here against my will.” She tried to ignore the tanned flesh of the naked chest only inches in front of her. Turning to the side, she twisted in an attempt to slide from his grip. But Rafe didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her the few inches remaining between their bodies until she was held firmly against him.