His Pregnant Royal Bride

by Amy Ruttan

  She nodded drowsily. He stood and helped her to her feet.

  He guided her out of his office, down a winding staircase to the canal that bordered the hospital. The water-taxi operator helped Shay down into his boat and Dante followed.

  It was dark out, but the city helped light the way. The hospital wasn’t too far from the lagoon, but behind him he could hear the singing of the gondoliers, tempting tourists to take a ride. Shay settled against the back of the seat.

  “I’m sorry, I can barely keep my eyes open.” Her head was nodding.

  “Put your head on my shoulder.” He rested his arm against the back of the boat and she leaned into him. He could smell her perfume. Soft, feminine. Lilacs.

  It reminded him of summers spent in Tuscany. Of the flowers blooming in his grandmother’s garden, warmed by the hot sun. He couldn’t help but smile. It was so right. It all seemed so right. Everything he wanted.

  Be careful.

  As they left the canals and headed out into the lagoon, there were stars in the sky. The city light drowned them out, but tonight the sky was clear enough you could make out a few. Ahead the Lido di Venezia was lit up with lights from restaurants and homes that littered the sandy shoal. Even farther away there were a couple of cruise ships and you could hear the music wafting from the upper decks.

  It left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Venice was becoming too much of a tourist trap.

  Which was why he preferred Tuscany.

  Sure, there were tourists, but there was more space. And there were no tourists at his grandfather’s vineyard.

  My vineyard.

  He glanced down at the small rounded swell that Shay was instinctively cradling in her sleep. That was his child. And even though he wasn’t sure, he reached out to touch it.

  “Where are we?” Shay asked, waking with a start. He pulled his hand back and moved his arm.

  “We’re almost to my home. It’s a short walk from the pier to my villa.”

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I usually have more stamina.”

  “You’re pregnant. It’s fine.”

  And it was more than fine.

  For his family’s legacy it was a lifesaver. And for his heart, his longing for a child he’d thought he’d never have, it was a dream come true.

  As long as it’s yours.

  And that little naysaying voice slammed him back to harsh reality. He was putting his heart at risk again.

  * * *

  Dante climbed out of the water taxi first at the docks and then held out his hand for Shay. Which was good; she wasn’t that sure-footed on boats anymore, since her center of gravity had shifted.

  In some of the places she worked, boats were a way to get around, a way of life, so she was annoyed when Dante had to help her out of a modern, luxurious water taxi. It wasn’t as if it were a skiff in the middle of a fast-flowing river in the South American jungle.

  However, she’d forgotten how well her hand fit in his. How safe he made her feel, just like that night on the beach in Oahu. And she sighed; it slipped out unintentionally.

  “What?” he asked as he helped her onto the pier.

  “Nothing,” she said, smiling up at him.

  He smiled too and paid the water-taxi captain.

  “Ciao,” the captain said, waving at them as he puttered away out toward Venice. The moon was high in the sky, the dark water calm; only a few ripples from the water taxi disrupted the mirrorlike quality of the lagoon. It reminded her of nights in the French Quarter, by Jackson Square, and looking out over the Mississippi. Then there were the few scattered memories of her father taking her to Lake Pontchartrain to fish, before he left them. The moon would be so high over the large lake and New Orleans out on the delta would glow and come to life.

  It was all so perfect, this moment. But that was the thing. It was just a moment. Even when the results confirmed what she was saying, she couldn’t believe he’d change his tune. He was so untrusting, so guarded, and she couldn’t help but wonder why. Moments didn’t last. She should know. Her father had proved that, and once her father had left, those nights had no longer been so perfect.

  And this situation with Dante was far from perfect.

  “Come,” Dante said, interrupting her thoughts. “It’s only a short walk to my villa.”

  They walked up the ramp from the dock onto the street.

  Shay was surprised to see a few cars and a bus stop.

  As if sensing her shock Dante chuckled. “There are no large canals here. Solid land here.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t live in Venice.”

  He frowned. “I used to. I grew up there.”

  “Do your parents still live there?”

  “No,” he said tersely. “Our family home is no longer in our family.”

  “You sound annoyed by that.”

  “It’s a long story,” Dante said. “Besides, I prefer living here on the Lido di Venezia. It’s peaceful here. There are tourists on the beach side, but I live on the lagoon side. I enjoy having a garden and trees. And most of the beaches at this end are private and owned by the hotels. Though to the south there are public beaches. The Adriatic is warm and very popular for young children. I spent many summers swimming here.”

  They turned down a small side street off the main street, the Gran Viale Santa Maria Elisabetta, not far from the lagoon, where residents could catch the ferries and vaporetti.

  Shay was expecting a small home and was shocked when he opened a gate to a large, square villa that seemed to take up the entire block off the main street. At the top of the villa there looked to be a patio that would have views over the lagoon and to Venice.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she mumbled. “You are a prince, after all.”

  He grinned and pushed open the creaky iron gate. “This was my maternal grandparents’ summer home—they were wealthy but not royalty. Unfortunately, it fell into disrepair.”

  “And you’re putting it back together?”

  He nodded quickly. “There are many rooms.”

  Dante unlocked the front door and led her inside. When he flicked on the light, Shay gasped at the beauty of a place so old. The stucco on the wall was painted in terra-cotta. The foyer was round like a turret, which you couldn’t tell from the outside, which was square.

  There were many arches leading off to various empty rooms.

  “I haven’t had much time,” Dante said apologetically. “Just the kitchen has been renovated on this ground floor and the master suite, terrace and a couple of bathrooms on the next level.”

  She followed him past numerous rooms. There was a large room that looked as if it had a dining table and suspended over it was a beautiful glass chandelier, unlit as it hovered above the ghostly occupants.

  “This is the kitchen. It backs onto the garden. You can’t see much, but I have a couple of kiwi trees and an olive tree out there as well as a small pool.” Dante flicked on another light, which illuminated a white, large and modern kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” Shay admitted.

  He smiled. “I thought as much. You need to eat.”

  She took a seat at the large wooden kitchen table. The garden was in darkness, but she could make out the reflection of water as it bounced off the tile of the terrace.

  “It’s beautiful. How old is this villa?” she asked.

  “This villa was built in the mid-eighteen-hundreds to replace a crumbling home that my family had owned since the fifteen-hundreds. This land actually housed many crusaders during the Fourth Crusade.” He brought her a cold glass of mineral water. “Drink it—the limes are actually mine too.”

  Shay took a sip. “Crusaders? How do you know?”

  “Everybody knows,” he said offhandedly. “Did yo
u not learn about the Crusades in school?”

  “No, it really wasn’t on our curriculum.”

  Dante tsked under his breath. “The Lido was home to about ten thousand crusaders, spurred on by Pope Innocent III to sack Constantinople. They were blockaded here for a time because they could not afford to pay for the ships being built. In fact, some of my ancestors fought in the battle of Zara, but it wasn’t until the fifteen-hundreds that my family gained notoriety and inherited the royal title. Of course, as this was my mother’s family’s home, my royal title has nothing to do with that at all. It’s just a bit of interesting family history.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know much about my family at all.”

  Dante cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

  “No. Labadie is a French name. That much I know. My father’s family came to New Orleans before it was purchased by the Americans. When it was still part of France, they, I believe, drifted down from the Maritimes in Canada during the Seven Years’ War. Mostly Cajun.”

  “Seven Years’ War?” Dante asked.

  “Oh, didn’t you learn about that in school?” Shay teased, and they both laughed at that.

  “How does leftover risotto sound?” he asked. “Or perhaps some cheese?”

  “Risotto sounds fine.”

  Dante went to heat the food and Shay glanced around the kitchen. She didn’t do much cooking; she knew how to cook on cookstoves or an open fire. Basically anything that was propane-operated, because sometimes where she was working there might not always be electricity or even clean water.

  This kitchen was opulent to her.

  Even her mother’s kitchen hadn’t been this nice.

  And then after Katrina, when the house had been condemned and her mother was dying from the effects of the mold she’d picked up in her lungs after the dikes had burst and flooded their home, the small run-down kitchen had been absolutely destroyed. Shay had had to go back into the home and try to salvage anything she could.

  Only there had been nothing left to salvage, really.

  A few pictures and birth certificates that had been stored in a flood-proof and fireproof box. And whatever else her mother had managed to cram into her carryall when she’d climbed out through the attic to the roof, waiting for help as the floodwaters rose.

  “You look sad, cara.”

  “Do I?” she asked.

  “Sì.” He set the plate of risotto in front of her and then sat down next to her with his own plate. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I’m just tired.” She plastered a fake smile on her face and took a bite of the risotto. “Oh, my goodness, this is so good.”

  He grinned. “I like to cook.”

  “You’re not a traditional prince, then.”

  His brow furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘traditional’?”

  “You’re a surgeon, you like to work with your hands and you cook. You don’t have any servants.”

  He laughed. “I do have a lady come and clean my house, but you’re right, I do most of it on my own. My maternal grandfather was a winemaker. He had a large vineyard in Tuscany and, though he was extremely wealthy, he taught me the value of hard work. I enjoy it.”

  “Well, you’re good at it. I’m afraid my cooking would not be up to par. The only thing I can make, if I have the ingredients and the patience, is boudin.”

  “What is boudin?”

  “A sausage stuffed with rice and green peppers.”

  “I would like to try that sometime.”

  Shay chuckled. “I’m not sure I’m up to boudin making at the moment.”

  “I can get you all the ingredients here.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I have a simulation course and training to run. Not to mention I’m to assist you in surgery. I’m here for work, Dante. Nothing else.”

  He frowned. “I’m passionate about my job too, but you have to live life as well. Work is not life.”

  “It is for me.”

  “And what happens when you have the child?” he asked. “Our child. Are you going to ignore our child for work?”

  “No,” she snapped. “I will balance it. A woman can work and be a mother. I think seeing me work will be a good example for our child.”

  Dante sighed. “I’m not saying that at all. Of course it’s a good example, but you said you don’t do anything but work. What do you do for fun?”

  And the question caught her off guard, because really she didn’t do much.

  When she was on assignment, she put her whole heart and soul into the job.

  There was no time for much else.

  “You know what, I’m really tired. Is there a place I can sleep?”

  “Of course, follow me.”

  Shay followed Dante out of the kitchen and up the winding staircase to the second floor. There were many rooms and a large open area with a couch and a desk. A living room. He led her to the back of the house and flicked on a light.

  “This is the only room with a bed in it at the moment. When you move in, I’ll move out of here.”

  “This is your room?”

  “Sì, it is also the only bedroom with a private bathroom. I can use the one downstairs. It is no trouble.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “The couch. I have some work to do. I’m not tired yet. You rest.”

  “I can’t kick you out of your bedroom.”

  “You can.” He smiled. “Get some rest and we’ll talk about our plans for marriage tomorrow, but only if the results are positive.”

  “Sure. Okay.” She rolled her eyes. Dante was so stubborn, so untrusting.

  He nodded and shut her in his bedroom. Shay sighed and sat down on the edge of his large bed, sinking down into the soft duvet.

  Tomorrow she’d tell him that it wasn’t a good idea.

  They weren’t going to get married.

  It was a foolish idea.

  She lay down on the bed and thought about how she was going to tell him her reasons, but before she could get too far into her plans she drifted off into a deep, sound sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE INCESSANT RINGING woke Shay up. And it took her a moment to realize where she was. She scrubbed a hand over her face and dug her phone out of her purse. It was Aubrey.

  “Hello?” she said, trying not to sound too groggy.

  “Are you okay?” Aubrey asked excitedly on the other end.

  “Fine, just...you woke me up.”

  “Where did you sleep? I called last night and Danica told me that you were staying with Dr. Affini at his home and she’s to send your belongings there.”

  “No. I’m not staying here permanently. I’ll call Danica and tell her. It was just for last night. It’s a long story.” Shay sighed.

  “Well, I told you to tell Dante about the baby, not to move in with him,” Aubrey teased.

  Shay laughed. “It’s the pregnancy hormones that made me do it.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Where are you today?” Shay asked, hoping Aubrey was nearby. She needed to talk to her face-to-face. Aubrey had taken an assignment outside Venice but did move around a bit in Italy.

  “Actually, I’m in Venice today, believe it or not.”

  “I’ll tell you all about it at lunch, then. When is your lunch break?” Shay asked.

  “Two. Do you want to meet for lunch at Braddicio’s near the hospital? I heard it was good. And I know where that is.”

  “Sounds good,” Shay said, trying to stifle a yawn. “I’ll explain everything there.”

  “Okay, be careful.”

  Shay disconnected the call and then headed to the bathroom, where she quickly showered before re-dressing in yesterday’s clothes.

  The bat
hroom was white and modern like the kitchen, except for the deep, large claw tub with a shower hose placed on a rack in the middle of the room. There were long windows and the blinds were closed. There was a bit of sunlight peeking through the sides of the roman shades.

  She pulled on the string and drew open the blinds, gasping when she noticed French doors that led out to a rooftop terrace. She unlatched the French doors and headed outside. From the terrace, the master suite faced the Adriatic. She could see the blue water and the sandy beaches that made the Lido di Venezia a favorite spot for tourists.

  She closed her eyes and drank in the scent of fruit trees flowering in the spring, mixed with sand and surf. When she looked down, she could see the high stone walls that bordered Dante’s garden. The fruit trees, the olive tree and the small pool that Dante was currently swimming laps in.

  Naked.

  Shay meant to look away, but couldn’t. She couldn’t help but watch him. His bronze form cutting through the turquoise water like a blade. It was mesmerizing. And she recalled very vividly what it was like to run her hands over that muscular body, to feel him pressed against her, his strong arms around her, holding her. His lips on her skin. Her blood heated. Drawn to him, she was so weak.

  Don’t look. Go downstairs and catch a ferry back to Venice. Back to the place you’re staying, so you won’t be tempted.

  And she was so tempted by Dante.

  She tore her gaze away and collected her purse and made her way downstairs.

  When she got to the stairs, she could smell coffee. It was inviting and she desperately wanted a cup, but coffee was off-limits. She made her way to the kitchen, just as Dante came walking in through the open terrace doors. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, but she got an eyeful of his broad, muscular chest.

  “You’re awake,” he said, his deep voice making her quake with a sudden need for him.

  “Yes.” She tried to avert her eyes from him, because she remembered all too well that body. The touch of it, the taste of it, the way he felt in her arms, his kisses burning a path of fire across her skin. “I hope your pool is heated.”

  “Sì, it is. How did you sleep?”

  “Very well. Your bed is very comfortable and I feel bad for taking it. I have a perfectly good bed where I’m staying.”