A few times, she'd woken in the night, tears stinging her eyes, and she thought again of the day she'd paced her apartment, trying to decide what to do about her baby--whether to tell Antone. It killed her, tore open her heart and flayed it in front of her, but she was positive she had made a mistake.
She should have kept this baby a secret, raised him or her on her own, and allowed the rest of the pieces to fall where they may. If she had just kept her mouth shut, she wouldn't be ruining the lives of everyone around her--Lydia, Ellaria, Antone...even the Princess Annabella, whoever she was.
Maybe it would have been better for the baby, too. He would have had second-hand overalls and peanut butter sandwiches. A life without responsibility. A normal, happy existence. But then...
Rolling over, she glanced at the low light slanting over Antone's sleeping face, and her bleeding heart let out another low moan. Even now, with all her selfishness, she wanted to shake him awake and ask him to hold her, knowing that he would.
If she hadn't told him, it would have been her and her alone laying in bed, wondering what her baby's father was like. Maybe even wondering if he had some health concerns that she should have known about. If he would one day come back and discover her secret.
She shook her head. What was done was done. The fact to the matter was, for better or worse, she had told Antone the truth. And because of that this baby would not only be born to wear a crown, but he or she would have a father that loved them.
And she would have a husband. A husband who didn't let her into his life. One who didn't share his secrets or the weight of his responsibilities...
But he loves me.
No, she didn't know that either. She knew that he loved her body, sure, but that would be changing soon, too. Then he might grow tired of her and, as his political career went on, he'd likely become ashamed of her, too. Just as her family had. Their wild, reckless daughter. His uncultured, American wife.
What a prize.
She sniffled, but held back the rush of tears still threatening her.
Don't look back. Just look forward. You don't know how he's going to feel, but you do know a few things for sure. You're going to have a baby that's going to need you to be strong. You're going to be married to Antone.
She took a deep breath. There was a path here, there had to be.
The wedding, of course, was an undeniable media spectacular, but once it was over? Well, there was no need for her to be in the public eye at all. She could be almost like the Phantom of the Opera, running around in the rafters and only showing up occasionally and when absolutely needed.
The baby would be born and she'd pose for a picture. Then? Well, she'd figure it out.
They had servants galore--enough for any one of them to run her errands at a moment's notice, and when that didn't work out, she could always order things online. In reality, there was no reason for her to ever leave the confines of the palace again.
And as for Antone...
She sat up straighter, staring out at the rushing, roaring waves, then glanced down at Antone's still-prone face, and then bit her bottom lip.
The press had been just as merciless with him as they had been with her--chastising him for breaking his agreement with the princess Annabella and drudging up his apparent history of philandering. If the media never saw them together, they couldn't make assumptions about the state of their relationship. If she kept to herself, he wouldn't have to worry about her on top of all the over responsibilities of running his country.
After all, hadn't that been the original plan? She was his wife of convenience, and even if she tried, there was no way she could understand his life, the heavy weight that had been thrust on him.
So the best thing was to leave it be. To leave him be.
It was the a good plan. The right plan--both for his career and for her well-being.
So why did she get the impression that the sudden sickness creeping inside her had nothing to do with morning sickness?
"The princess Ellaria wishes to see you," Luca's voice broke through his concentration, and Antone looked up, though his mind was still reeling from the email he'd just finished reading.
It was a message from his father--no word of congratulations on the future heir to their country, no questions about the woman who would one day be queen, just a note letting him know that he did not feel it necessary to return to the country until the day of the wedding.
If it weren't for the reason behind his father's return, he might have thought the king hadn't heard the news of the scandal at all, but either it was so low on his list of priorities that he didn't deign to comment on it or he cared so little that he'd already forgotten.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to find the right words to express his outrage without out-and-out accusing his father of shirking his duties. Still, there was no doubt that whatever villa he'd shacked up in with his new wife, it offered little to no information about the new tax legislation parliament had been debating over for weeks.
"I should attach it in an email," he grumbled to himself, and it was only when Luca spoke again that he realized he was staring straight at him while his mind wandered.
"Sir? Your sister?" Luca asked.
Antone shook his head. "Is it something else with the wedding? Can't she speak with Tess?"
"I'm afraid Tess is busy today and the princess needs an answer right away."
Antone frowned. "What do you mean Tess is busy?"
He thought back to how she'd looked when he'd crept out of the room in the early hours of the morning. Even then, she had twisted and turned in her sleep, her full lips contorting with every move. All week, he had felt her shifting in the bed, restless in her sleep, and though he had wondered if his own restlessness had been affecting her, he was beginning to think there was something more going on.
In the days since their ill-fated journey to the beach, she'd been more quiet, more reserved. When he left her in the middle of the night, she never asked if he was okay. She never asked him what was on his mind, and she certainly didn't offer what was on hers.
He knew he should have prodded her for more information--to figure out what was going on, but if he did, he knew she would ask him the same, and he couldn't bring himself to unload all his state troubles on someone who was still reeling from losing their home and their life. Someone should focus on being happy and well and caring for the child growing inside her.
"The doctor has come to see her today, sir," Luca said. "Didn't she tell you?"
"What do you mean? Is she okay?" He stood, his heart suddenly thundering in his chest.
"Yes, of course. She's had this appointment on the books for weeks. It's a regular check-up."
Antone stared at his friend. "Where is she?"
"In her private quarters."
Without a word, Antone swept from the room, marching down the long, stone hall, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. He moved without thinking, without knowing what he would say or do, but knowing that he had to be there--for the baby. For himself. For Tess.
When he reaching the oak door, he pushed it open without bothering to knock and Tess stared up at him, her face white.
"What? What's wrong?" he asked, staring around. The doctor was nowhere to be found.
"I wasn't expecting you, that's all," she said, and though she relaxed back on the pillows, her gaze never left his. "Are you okay?"
He blinked. "What do you mean am I okay? What were you thinking not telling me you had a doctor's appointment?"
She rolled her eyes. "You don't need to worry about this. It's totally normal. You gave enough to--"
"I'll decide what is important to me, if you don't mind. Now what did the doctor say?" His tone was sharper than he'd intended, but if she was taken aback, she certainly didn't show it.
"The doctor isn't here yet. I'm just waiting for her to arrive."
"She's late? She's making you wait? I'll--"
"Do nothing. Relax," Tess
finished for him. "Honestly, you should go back to work. There's nothing here that you need to concern yourself with."
"You are always my concern. You seem to have forgotten that."
"No, I'm trying to make myself less of a concern. You don't need to worry about me. I've already given you enough trouble--"
Antone shook his head. "The only trouble you're giving me is your cutting me out. I want to be here for you, Tess."
"But the papers--"
"Don't mean anything. I've told you this. Tess--" His next words were cut off as the door opened again and an amiable-looking elderly woman entered.
In her hands, she held a clipboard and a pair of tiny, clear-rimmed glasses were perched on the end of her long, Grecian nose. "Your highness, I didn't know we'd be expecting you." She gave him a little bow, then turned the force of her smile on Tess, whose almond eyes were lined with concern.
Tess’s full mouth puckered slightly, then she returned the doctor's smile. "Hello. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise, your future grace." She took a seat in the velvet chair beside the bed, ignoring the monitor and machinery that had been placed beside it. "Now, how are you feeling? Other than nervous, I mean."
"That obvious, huh?" Tess' smile faded. "I'm fine. You know, a little hormonal, but other than that..." Tess shrugged.
The doctor nodded. "Any morning sickness?"
Tess shook her head. "Not for a few weeks now."
"Good, good. Any spotting or other concerns?"
Antone searched his fiancée’s face, but she remained impassive. "No, nothing."
"Great. Well, today we're going to look at the baby and make sure everything is okay." She moved toward the machinery and Tess nodded, the lines around her eyes deepening.
Antone took her hand in his and squeezed, his heart suddenly in his throat. He wanted to say something, to comfort her, but he had no words. Between his own mingled excitement and terror, he knew there was nothing to offer her now other than results. A confirmation that the baby was safe and healthy.
Tess shivered at the doctor squeezed a clear, viscous jelly on her stomach, then spread it over her with a little wand. Then, suddenly, the monitor beside her lit up and, tiny as a grape, Antone could see his baby. Their baby.
From a speaker, a deep, steady thrum sounded, and he looked down at Tess to see tears shining in her eyes.
"That's the baby's heartbeat." The doctor smiled at her, and Antone practically choked on his joy.
Sweeping Tess' hair back from her forehead, he gazed down at her as a single tear rolled down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb.
All the anger and indignation he'd felt when he'd rushed into the room was gone, replaced instead with something almost like awe. This woman--whether she was the brash American woman he'd slept with that first night or the stubborn, fiery woman who shared his bed now--was something to behold. She would carry his son, true, but to see the full glow of love on her face from that one solitary image and that deep, thrumming sound...
He shook his head. He knew she wouldn't understand, but he whispered to her all the same, "Sei fantastico."
You are amazing.
And she was. Whatever the papers said about her now didn't matter in the slightest--once they saw her the way he did, once they knew what she was like as a woman and as a mother, well, they'd have to love her. There was no choice at all.
Not for them.
Not for him.
13
The days leading up to the wedding went by in a blur of tension, color, and sound. Though Ellaria still managed all the details of the event right down to the seating charts and centerpieces, Tess was so wrapped up in the day-to-day tasks that she hardly saw Antone, and even when she did, he always seemed to be somewhere else, far away from her.
And, as she walked down the aisle toward him, she realized it was the first time he had really looked at her in days. But then, once their vows were exchanged and they'd made their traditional walk around a long, ornate wooden table, he was gone from her again, pulled into the sea of reporters while Ellaria grabbed her arm and led her toward a room in the back of the huge, majestic cathedral.
Cameras flashed in her face as she went, and she did her best to smile the way Ellaria always did, but she couldn't hide the wash of relief that consumed her the second a door closed behind her and she was alone with her sister-in-law.
"Well done, your highness," Ellaria said, and though the same chilly air coated her words, Tess knew she was, for once, not being sarcastic.
"Thank you." Tess glanced in the mirror, raising her hand to straighten the crown of lush, white roses the priest had placed atop her head. Unlike traditional American wedding dresses, Tess' gown was embroidered with emerald detailing that perfectly matched the leaves and stems of the roses on her head, the same color as the Napoline flag. Still, the tiny, perfect stitches were the most ornate thing about the dress. Aside from that and the small train, it was a plain, white satin dress, almost the same as the one she'd worn the night she'd met her husband.
My husband.
Her chest tightened at the thought.
"It is time to change for the reception." Ellaria swept across the room, her own emerald green dress billowing behind her as she worked the tiny buttons along the back of Tess' gown.
"Thank you for going through all of this. It was a beautiful wedding, truly."
Ellaria's fingers froze for a moment, but when she set to work again, they were more gentle than they had been before. "It was my duty and my pleasure. I am your sister."
"I should probably warn you, I've never been a very good sister," Tess said.
Ellaria slipped the gown from Tess' shoulders, and though Tess couldn't see her face, she had the distinct impression that the other woman was smiling.
In the mirror, Tess watched Ellaria make her way to the armoire and pull out a new, tea-length silk dress. "I'm afraid the same can be said for me these past weeks. I...should not have treated you the way I did. I apologize."
Ellaria held the dress out to Tess, and she took it, slipping it over her head quickly. "What do you mean?"
"I was embittered toward my brother and his actions. You have seen, no doubt, the political fallout of your marriage. The fact that I would have to step in to pick up the pieces was not lost on me, but I know, and have always known, that it was not your fault. I never should have taken my anger or frustration out on you as I did." She glanced away, and the sheepish expression looked strange and out of place on her face.
"Ellaria, if you don't want to marry the prince--"
The other woman held up her hand. "I will not speak about that today. Right now, we are celebrating your own marriage, and if we do not move along shortly, we will be very late."
From the church, Tess was ushered into a limo to take her back to the palace. Though the ride was blissfully short, every second that ticked by brought a new wave of panic. This was her first big event with the public, her first time speaking to the king and queen, her first time meeting Antone's youngest sister, the princess Regianna.
Try as she might to take deep, calming breaths, there was no denying the familiar, inevitable feel of it all. The humiliation she'd no doubt bring on her husband and herself. The shame she'd bring to his important, distinguished family.
"Princess, we've arrived." The driver turned in his seat to look at her and she blinked back at him, frozen to her seat.
"Do I have to go in?" she asked him, but before he answered, her door opened and a tall, familiar form was waiting for her, his hand outstretched. Cameras flashed behind him like warning lights, but she took his hand all the same, allowing Antone to pull her from the car and into his arms.
"You look more beautiful today than the day I met you," he whispered in her ear, and then, still quieter, he added, "Don't worry. The press isn't allowed at the reception. Ellaria made sure of it."
Tess swallowed hard, smiling one last time for the cameras before they stepped through the ballroo
m's wide, glass doors and were formally announced as husband and wife, crown prince and princess of Napoline. Their lengthy last name and accolades were recited, and she curtsied as gracefully as she could manage while the crowd of dignitaries clapped along politely.
When at last the applause faded and everyone returned to chattering and picking canapés from the glittering silver pass trays, Antone led her to the table on the further end of the room, slightly elevated from the others.
There, Ellaria sat, whispering something to Luca, and beside her sat another woman, her sleek dark hair the exact same shade as her brother's. Where Ellaria was willowy and haughty, Regianna was voluptuous and amiable, a wide smile stretched across her face as she drank in her brother and sister-in-law.
"I saw the pictures of course, but you're even more stunning in person," Regianna's accent wasn't as thick as her sister's, and she leaned across the table to dot both of Tess' cheeks with kisses. "Bellissimo."
"You're too kind," Tess blushed.
"She's not," Antone said, squeezing her a little closer to his side. "Tess, this is my sister."
"Regianna." Tess nodded. "I've heard so much about you."
Regianna grinned even more broadly, but the smile slipped from her face as she caught sight of something over Tess' shoulder. Tess turned, half-expecting to see Lord Voldemort traipsing across the dance floor, but instead she spotted a beautiful woman, probably the same age as Regianna, heading toward them with her arms outstretched.
"Antone, Antone," she called, her throaty voice carrying across the room. As she walked, the enormous, sparkling tiara bobbed in her mountain of chestnut curls.
From the corner of her eye, she saw her husband stiffen, but he reached out and took the woman in his arms nonetheless, kissing both her cheeks. "Maria," he said.
"Your father will be along shortly. What a wonderful ceremony. Beautiful." She nodded at Tess, but did not look at her. "It's a shame we cannot stay for the whole of the reception."
Antone's adam's apple froze in the middle of his throat. "What do you mean?"
Seduced by the Stranger Page 10
