A Royal Baby on the Way

by Susan Mallery

  ‘‘I’m perfectly fine,’’ she lied.

  He kissed the top of her head. ‘‘Darlin’, we’re going to get through this together.’’

  ‘‘But this isn’t how I planned on getting pregnant.’’

  ‘‘It’s not how I planned on proposing to you, either, but here we are.’’

  She raised her head and stared at him. Her heart stopped. Actually stopped. She heard it beat, then there was only silence. ‘‘You want to marry me?’’

  A slow smile curved his perfect mouth. ‘‘Haven’t we already decided that you’re a hell of a catch? Given the way I feel about you, I’d be a fool to let you go.’’

  She couldn’t believe it! ‘‘We’re getting married?’’

  ‘‘Who’s getting married?’’

  Alex looked up and saw two couples standing in the doorway to the bedroom. She knew her own parents and recognized Mitch’s parents from the photos she’d seen in the family room.

  Betty ducked around them. ‘‘Sorry,’’ she said with an apologetic shrug. ‘‘They arrived within minutes of each other. I tried to keep them busy in the living room, but you guys were kind of yelling at each other, and they just followed the voices.’’ She glanced at Alex’s father. ‘‘Is he really a king?’’

  ‘‘I am, madam,’’ King Phillip said, his bearing as regal as ever. He winked. ‘‘Pretty impressive, don’t you think?’’

  With his white hair, neat beard and mustache, he looked like a Hollywood casting director’s dream for the role of elder statesman. Normally Alex would be thrilled to see both him and her mother, but the realization that they had heard part or all of her argument with Mitch, not to mention the fact that she was pregnant, was too mortifying for words.

  ‘‘I can’t believe this,’’ Alex murmured.

  ‘‘You and me both.’’

  A tall, pretty woman with a bit of gray in her short brown hair stepped forward. ‘‘You must be Princess Alexandra. I’m Cecilia, Mitch’s mother. You can call me Cissy. Everyone does.’’

  Alex dug deep for courage and poise she wasn’t sure she had, then stepped free of Mitch’s sheltering arms. She shook hands with both Mitch’s parents. His father was a tall, handsome man who stood straight and had Mitch’s teasing smile.

  ‘‘So pleased to meet you,’’ Alex said. ‘‘Have you met my parents?’’

  Her mother, Queen Gabriella, slipped her arm through Cissy’s as if they’d known each other for years. ‘‘We’ve already had the pleasure, my dear. While you and Mitch were busy…talking.’’

  ‘‘They’re obviously right for each other,’’ Cissy told Gabriella. ‘‘I knew it the minute I saw them together in that picture.’’

  ‘‘I agree,’’ the queen said. ‘‘I had about given up on her. I didn’t think she was ever going to fall in love. Your Mitch seems like a very good man. He’s done well with the ranch.’’

  ‘‘Of course he has,’’ Mitch’s father said. ‘‘Taught him everything he knows.’’

  ‘‘Robert, stop it,’’ Cissy said, lightly touching her husband’s arm.

  King Phillip slapped Robert on the back. ‘‘I dare say you’ve hit the nail on the head. I’ve taken great pains to teach my children the right way and the wrong way. Any good father would, and I can see you’ve done well by your son. So, about the wedding.’’

  Alex remembered watching a movie once in which the heroine was trapped behind a glass wall. She could talk or scream, but no one could hear her. That was how she felt this morning. Events were occurring around her, but she couldn’t seem to participate.

  ‘‘Yes,’’ Cissy said, eyeing her son. ‘‘They seem to have handled things in reverse order, which I can almost guarantee was Mitch’s fault.’’

  Robert grinned. ‘‘That’s because he’s like his old man.’’

  Cissy blushed. ‘‘Robert!’’

  Mitch groaned. ‘‘I did not want to know that.’’

  ‘‘You think you two invented sex?’’ Robert asked testily. ‘‘I’ll have you know that after thirty-five years your mother and I—’’

  ‘‘Robert!’’ This time Cissy’s tone silenced her husband.

  Gabriella gave the woman a knowing smile. ‘‘Phillip and I, as well. This is going to be a good match for our children. So let’s talk about the wedding. What about something extravagant? Lots of flowers and guests. A sit-down dinner. I’ve always wanted to plan something like that when Alexandra finally married.’’ She paused. ‘‘I would suggest Wynborough, except the staff is already taxed by the gala celebration next year.’’

  ‘‘Then let’s have it here,’’ Robert said. ‘‘Plenty of room on the ranch. We don’t have much time, though, with your Alex already being pregnant.’’

  Alex flinched. This wasn’t happening.

  It was as if Mitch read her mind. He put a protective arm around her and raised his free hand. ‘‘That’s it,’’ he said. ‘‘While we appreciate all the advice, not to mention the planning, this isn’t your decision to make.’’

  King Phillip glared. ‘‘Are you sure you want to disagree with a king, young man? Not to mention your future father-in-law?’’

  ‘‘Not really, but I will anyway,’’ Mitch told him evenly. ‘‘No one makes decisions about our future except us. As for who plans the wedding, how big it is and where it will be, or if there’s going to be one, that’s Alex’s decision.’’

  ‘‘Of course there will be a wedding,’’ King Phillip told him.

  ‘‘What’s the problem?’’ Cissy asked. ‘‘You two love each other. You’re going to have a baby together.’’

  ‘‘What we’re going to have is some privacy,’’ Mitch said. He moved to the door. ‘‘I’m sure Betty has prepared coffee for the four of you. Please return to the living room and we’ll join you as soon as we’ve figured everything out.’’

  Everyone started backing out except King Phillip.

  ‘‘Sir, this isn’t your business,’’ Mitch said respectfully, but firmly. ‘‘Alex and I will inform you of our decision when we’ve made it.’’

  Her father glared, but Mitch didn’t back down. Finally the older man took a step into the hall. ‘‘Thanks,’’ Mitch said and closed the door.

  Alex stared in disbelief as he shut out her father. ‘‘You just slammed the door in a king’s face,’’ she said.

  ‘‘I didn’t slam it. I closed it firmly. This isn’t about him, or anyone else. It’s about us.’’

  Alex looked at him. ‘‘You don’t understand. No one stands up to the king. My father is a wonderful leader and is very willing to listen to all sides of a discussion, but he is the king. He never forgets that and neither do we.’’

  ‘‘I didn’t forget. But this isn’t his decision to make.’’ He stepped toward her, then pulled her close. ‘‘Now where were we?’’

  Alex thought about trying to explain the importance of what he’d just done, but she realized Mitch truly didn’t care. If he thought King Phillip was getting in the way, he would tell the man. No doubt he would keep as close a watch on Alex, as well, making sure she didn’t take on too many responsibilities, helping her stay balanced. He was even more wonderful than she’d known.

  She slipped into his embrace. As his arms went around her, she felt as if she’d come home.

  ‘‘I love you, Princess Alexandra,’’ he said. ‘‘I haven’t a clue as to how we’re supposed to make this work, but I don’t want to let you go. I want you to marry me.’’ He smiled down at her. ‘‘And to answer the question before you ask it, I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but I didn’t want to say anything. I wasn’t sure I had very much to offer a woman like you.’’

  ‘‘What changed your mind?’’ she asked, even though she knew the answer. It was her pregnancy. She tried not to let that information make her sad. After all, many successful relationships had started with less.

  ‘‘When I woke up this morning and you were gone,’’ he said, ‘‘I knew no matter wha
t, I couldn’t spend my nights alone in that bed. I need you in my life. I’ll do whatever it takes to allow us to be together.’’

  She felt tears again, but this time tears of joy. ‘‘I love you, too, Mitch, and it’s not about having a baby with you, although I’m very happy about that. It’s because you’re the best man I know. I would be proud to be your wife.’’

  He kissed her hard, his tongue teasing hers, then he pulled back. ‘‘I’ll never be a prince.’’

  ‘‘You’re wrong. You were born a prince. It’s about character and strength, Mitch, not about titles. But I do have to warn you. My parents are going to insist that we attend the gala celebration in March in Wynborough.’’

  ‘‘I can do that.’’

  She couldn’t help giggling. ‘‘That’s not what I was warning you about. If I know my father, he’s going to insist on knighting you.’’

  Mitch groaned and rested his forehead against hers. ‘‘Do you know what the guys who work for me will say if they find that out? They’ll make my life miserable.’’

  ‘‘They’ll just be jealous.’’

  ‘‘You’re right. Because I have you.’’

  This time she kissed him. ‘‘We have a lot of things to work out.’’

  ‘‘Uh-huh. I’ll do what I have to to make you happy, but I want to insist on some time on the ranch each year.’’ He reached out to caress her cheek.

  ‘‘All right, but what about our parents?’’ she asked, even as she drew closer to him.

  ‘‘Tell ’em whatever you want about the wedding. I don’t care if there are fifty people there or fifty thousand. As long as you marry me.’’

  ‘‘I meant that they’re waiting for us in the living room.’’

  He kissed her neck, then her cheeks, then her mouth. ‘‘They’d be thrilled if they knew.’’

  She found herself laughing, then sighing as he cupped her face.

  ‘‘I will love you forever, Princess Alexandra of Wynborough,’’ he whispered, his mouth against hers.

  Her heart swelled with joy at all that had happened to her. She’d come to this country searching for a brother. Instead she’d found the best man in the world. She knew they were going to have a wonderful life together.

  ‘‘That’s nearly as long as I’m going to love you,’’ she promised.

  *

  With her brand-new Mischief Bay series, New York Times bestselling author

  SUSAN MALLERY

  brings to vivid color the story of three friends on the brink of a new life.

  “An engrossing take of emotional growth and the healing power of friendship.”

  —Library Journal on three sisters The Girls of Mischief Bay now available wherever books are sold!

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  THE GIRLS OF MISCHIEF BAY

  Meet Nicole, Shannon and Pam in their quirky, beachy town by the ocean, where life is richer with friends by your side!

  Pam walked through from the garage to the main house, Lulu keeping pace with her. In the mudroom they both paused. Pam fished her small handbag out of the tote, then hung the larger bag on a hook.

  The open area served as a catchall for things that otherwise didn’t have a home. There was a built-in storage unit with plenty of hooks, shelves and drawers. The latter were mostly filled with Lulu’s various clothes.

  Now Pam eyed the lightweight sweater her pet wore and decided it would keep the dog warm enough until bedtime. Like the rest of the family, Lulu wore PJs to bed. Pam didn’t care if anyone laughed at her for that. She was the one Lulu cuddled next to under the covers and she wanted her dog wearing something soft when that happened.

  They continued through the house to the kitchen. Pam pulled her cell out of her purse and stuck it on the side table by the hall, then checked on the Crock-Pot she’d left on that morning. A quick peek and stir confirmed the beef burgundy was coming along. She added the vegetables she’d already prepared and stirred again, then went out the front door to collect the mail.

  The day had warmed up nicely. February in the rest of the country could mean snow and ice. In Southern California there was every chance it would be sunny and seventy. Today was no exception, although she would guess it was closer to sixty-five. Hardly reason to complain, she told herself as she pulled the mail out of the box and started back toward the house.

  Mischief Bay was a coastal community. Tucked between Redondo Beach and Hermosa Beach, it had a small pier, plenty of restaurants, a boardwalk and lots of tourists. The ocean regulated the temperatures and the steady light breeze made sure there wasn’t much in the way of smog.

  She and John had bought their sprawling ranch-style home ages ago. Jennifer, their oldest, had been what? Three? Pam tried to remember. If Jennifer had been three, then Steven had been a year and she’d been pregnant with Brandon.

  Oh, yeah. She had been pregnant all right. There’d been the charming moment when she’d thrown up in front of the movers. Brandon had been a difficult pregnancy and she’d been nauseous a lot. Something she brought up every so often—when her son needed a little humbling. As all children did, now and then.

  She paused to wait for Lulu to do her business by the bushes and studied the front of the house. They’d redone much of both yards a few years ago, when they’d had the house painted. She liked the new plants that edged the circular drive. Her gaze rose to the roof. That had been replaced, as well. One of the advantages of having a husband in construction—he always knew the best people.

  Lulu trotted back to her side.

  “Ready to go in, sweet pea?” Pam asked.

  Lulu wagged her feathered tail and led the way. Pam glanced down at the mail as she walked. Bills, a letter from an insurance agent she’d never heard of—no doubt an ad—along with two car magazines for John and a postcard from the local high school.

  Pam frowned at the postcard and turned it over. What on earth could they…?

  Lulu walked into the house. Pam followed and automatically closed the door. She stood in the spacious foyer, afternoon light spilling onto the tile floor.

  But she didn’t see any of that. She didn’t see anything but the stark words printed on the postcard.

  Class of 2005. Fellow Cougars—save the date!! Your 10-year high school reunion is this August.

  There was more, but the letters got blurry as Pam tried to make sense of the notice. A ten-year high school reunion? Sure, Jennifer had graduated in 2005, but there was no way it had been ten years, had it? Because if Jen were attending her ten-year reunion, that meant Pam was the mother of a woman attending her ten-year high school reunion.

  “When did I get old?” Pam asked, her voice a whisper.

  Involuntarily, she turned to stare at the mirror over the entry table. The person staring back at her looked familiar and yet totally wrong. Sure the shoulder-length dark hair was fine and the irises were still hazel-green. But everything else was different. No, not different. Less…firm.

  There were lines around her eyes and a distinct softness to her jaw. Her mouth wasn’t as full as it had been. Ironically, just last November she’d turned fifty and had been so damned proud of herself for not freaking out. Because these days fifty was the new thirty-five. Big deal, right?

  John had thrown a huge party. She’d laughed over the gag gifts and had prided herself for achieving the big 5-0 with grace and style. Not to mention a pretty decent ass, thanks to the three-times-a-week classes she took at Nicole’s studio. She hadn’t felt…old. But that was before she had a daughter who had just been invited to her ten-year high school reunion.

  Sure, she’d had kids young. She’d married J
ohn at nineteen and had Jen when she’d turned twenty-two. But that was what she’d always wanted.

  She and John had met at Mischief Bay High School. He’d been tall and sexy, a star player on the football team. His family had a local plumbing company. One that worked in new construction rather than fixing stopped-up toilets.

  John’s plans had been set. He was going to get his AA in business from Mischief Bay Community College, then work in the family firm full-time. He would start at the bottom, earn his way to the top and buy out his parents by the time he was forty.

  Pam had liked how he’d known what he wanted and went after it. When he turned his blue eyes on her and decided she was the one to share the journey, well, she’d been all in.

  Now as she studied her oddly familiar and unfamiliar reflection, she wondered how the time had gone by so quickly. One second she’d been an in-love teenager and now she was the mother of a twenty-eight-year-old.

  “No,” she said aloud, turning away from the mirror. She wasn’t going to freak out over something as ridiculous as age. She had an amazing life. A wonderful husband and terrific kids and a strange little dog. They were all healthy—except for Lulu’s ongoing issues—and successful and, best of all, happy. She’d been blessed a thousand times over. She was going to remember that and stay grateful. So what if she wasn’t firm? Beauty only went skin deep. She had wisdom and that was worth more.

  She headed into the kitchen and flipped on the wall-mounted TV. John got home between five fifteen and five thirty every day. They ate at six—a meal she’d made from scratch. Every Saturday night they either went out to dinner or had an evening with friends. Sunday afternoon the kids came over and they barbecued. On Memorial Day they held a big party, also a barbecue. It was L.A. When in doubt, throw meat on a grill.

  She automatically collected the ingredients for biscuits. Self-rising flour, shortening, sugar, buttermilk, baking powder. She’d stopped using a recipe years ago for nearly everything. Because she knew what she was doing. John liked what she served and didn’t want her to change. They had a routine. Everything was comfortable.