The Spaniard's Pregnant Bride

by Maisey Yates

  “I’m pleased for you,” he said, feeling something twisting in his chest that didn’t feel much like pleasure.

  “I think we can make this work,” she said, taking a step forward. And that thing in his chest twisted all the tighter.

  “We are making this work,” he said. “Our child will be legitimate.”

  “Right. Because of our temporary marriage. But... Why does it have to be temporary?”

  That simple question could have brought down the rest of the castillo. It most certainly sent something crumbling down inside of him. “I told you,” he said. “I cannot be the husband that you want.”

  “You’re assuming what I want again. You know that you can be a husband. A faithful husband. As you were to Sylvia for years.”

  “Living with me stifled her. She needed. And it wasn’t her fault she needed. It was my fault for marrying a woman who so clearly needed what I was not willing to give.”

  “We all carry our own baggage,” she said, “you should know that most of all. Whatever our backgrounds, we have things we have to sort through. Perhaps it was her own issues that suffocated her.”

  He could not deny that she had a point, however, he could also not deny the fact that the environment of living with him had clearly been one that wasn’t ideal for Sylvia. That he had not been able to be the man she needed. That perhaps a more sensitive man, a more attentive man, could have broken through the walls of silence that she’d erected around herself. Perhaps could have intervened in the depression before it was too late.

  “All I’m saying,” Allegra said, “is that there’s little point in planning a divorce, Cristian. Clearly, we are compatible sexually.” She attempted to say the words in a blasé manner but her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. He found that little show of innocence far more arousing than he should. But then, he found everything about Allegra far more arousing than he should.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice getting rough. “We are.”

  “And sometimes we even get along,” she said. “These days. So what’s the point of the two of us planning to create a scandal? I was already going to marry a prince, and I planned on staying married to him.”

  “What you’re asking for isn’t that simple. A marriage implies that we will share a life. That we will have more children.” The idea filled him with terror. He already wanted to keep his child as far away from him as possible. Not because he imagined he might be the sort of man his father was, but because he hated the idea of poisoning an innocent life. And that’s what he was, he was poison. From the moment of his birth, from the moment Sylvia had said her vows to him.

  And here he was, drawing Allegra into that same web.

  He knew he would hurt her either way. Whether he promised to remain her husband, or whether he cast her out. That was the impossible nature of the situation.

  “We don’t have to have more children,” she said.

  “How about we open this up for further negotiation when two years passes,” he said.

  “So we’ll spend the next two years with the sword of Damocles hanging over our heads?”

  “I suppose it will be up to you at the end of those two years to decide whether divorce is the sword falling upon you or whether the real cut will come from staying married to me. And then, perhaps you choose the one that seems less fatal?” He knew which it would be. She would tire of him. Of what it was to be with him. He didn’t know how to give. Not really. In the time since he and Allegra had begun sleeping together, he had discovered that she was a well of endless generosity. Even the attitude that he had found so distasteful in her ultimately came from her desire to please.

  She wanted to please her parents, at the expense of herself. And if she seemed like she was tugging against the ropes that bound her, it was only because she didn’t want to take that final step to free herself. She would give, and give, to avoid hurting people. He knew that about her, and he knew that he was in a perfect position to twist that nature of hers, to play on her fears and to keep her captive.

  That was why he should end things now. It was why he should tell her that things could go nowhere between them. That they would stay married only long enough to give their child a name, to make it look real, and then go their separate ways.

  But he could not. Because therein lay his flaw. That he was a black hole of selfishness, who wanted to take everything she would give, but knew how to give nothing back in return.

  He had locked himself down so tight through all those years, all those years of beatings, of pain, of abandonment, and he had no idea how to open himself back up. Nor did he want to. Now he knew what pain lay on the other side.

  “That sounds fair,” she said, her voice soft, and he knew that she didn’t think it was anything close to fair.

  “Good. Then we will revisit the issue when necessary. Tomorrow we will go back to Barcelona,” he said, taking one last look at the ruin. “I will send in a crew to salvage the rest.”

  Whatever he had been hoping to find here tonight, he had not. He had spent the day digging through rubble, and had come no closer to even having an inkling as to what he’d hoped to find.

  Only Allegra’s arms had contained any satisfaction. Only Allegra had provided him with any warmth at all. He was done here.

  “Okay,” she said, moving forward, putting her hand on his bare back. The two of them were still naked, standing out in the open, the moonlight shining down on them. He turned, wrapping his arm around her waist, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting her face up. He leaned down, pressing a fierce kiss to her lips.

  “I only hope you do not regret me,” he said, even as he knew that she would.

  “I can’t regret you, Cristian. You saved me from my marriage to Raphael.”

  “And condemned you to one with me.”

  “What you see as condemnation,” she said, lifting her hands and bracketing his face, “I see as being very close to heaven.”

  Her words washed over him like a balm, healing, soothing. Dammit all, he didn’t deserve it. He could give nothing in return. He could do nothing but take this, hold it close, until it ultimately withered and died.

  And so he did. Kissing her deeper in the moonlight, offering her nothing but the pleasure of his body. The only thing that he could use to speak now.

  Because here in this ruin, where there were no answers, he lost himself in Allegra’s body. On the cold stone floor, he took everything she could give, and gave nothing back.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE WEDDING WAS drawing closer, and Allegra couldn’t say whether she and Cristian were in a better place or not. They had both been dancing around the things that had been said at the castillo, the things she had nearly confessed, the things she had asked for. She was dancing around them internally too. Pretending that she didn’t need more, pretending that everything would be fine.

  It was a glorious avoidance, though.

  Every night, he took her into his arms, and every night, he made even more passionate love to her than he had the night before.

  If there was one place they connected, it was in the bedroom. An echo of that wordless, anonymous joining that had found them bonding in the first place.

  But, during the day, they hardly spoke. Today was her dress fitting. Her mother was coming, which made Allegra unaccountably nervous. Along with the seamstress, which made her even more nervous. Possibly because the evidence of her pregnancy was starting to become a bit more undeniable, and because she knew that whatever her mother had guessed in terms of her measurements would be an underestimation. And so now, Allegra would have to be poked and prodded, and scolded for her roundness.

  When the door to her bedroom burst open, and the seamstress and her mother arrived, Allegra steeled herself for the onslaught of words that were sure to follow.

  And she wasn’t wrong. She found herself immediately stripped down, and put up on a pedestal, while she was fitted into a strapless bra and some kind of cri
noline that was supposed to hold the skirt out.

  “There is no reason you can’t look like a princess on your wedding day, even if you aren’t marrying a prince,” her mother said, speaking in rapid-fire Italian.

  “I suppose not,” Allegra said, shifting uncomfortably as the seamstress began to pin yards of satin into slightly different positions, tightening and loosening where applicable. She could hear seams ripping, and she grimaced.

  “You have put on a little bit of weight,” her mother remarked, to the tune of the seams tearing as the seamstress worked to let the dress out.

  “Well, Mother, I am with child, as they say. That is to be expected.”

  “Indeed,” her mother responded. “Cristian is the father of the baby, isn’t he? Or has he simply agreed to do this as a way of protecting your honor?”

  Allegra nearly fell off the stool, a crack of laughter escaping her lips. “Trust me, Mother, Cristian has no stake in protecting my honor. He has thoroughly done away with it over the past few months.”

  Her mother arched her dark brow. “That was a bit too informative, Allegra.”

  “Don’t ask nosy questions if you don’t want informative answers.”

  The other woman made a scoffing sound. “You’re in rare form today.”

  “I’ve been in rare form for a while now. Hence pregnancy.”

  “Cristian is a fine choice,” her mother continued while the seamstress kept on tugging.

  “He is,” Allegra answered. “I only regret that I wasn’t more straightforward in the way I handled things.”

  In so many ways. Not just in her engagement to Raphael, but in the way she’d dealt with her feelings for Cristian in the first place. Because they had been there, always, and she had been too afraid to do anything. She might have ended up married to another man, while only ever wanting Cristian. That was a terrifying thought.

  “It doesn’t matter. Raphael clearly had some sort of bit on the side. Princess Bailey, have you ever heard of anything more ridiculous?”

  “I did say something to the effect that she sounded more like a beagle than a princess,” Allegra said ruefully. “But she is beautiful.”

  “I suppose. And pregnant, the tabloids say.”

  “So am I,” Allegra said, somewhat pointedly.

  “It seems if the two of you were so eager to get started producing children you could have done it with each other,” her mother said.

  “It’s not that simple. If she makes Raphael happy, then I suppose my transgression is all the better. Both of us will get what we want.” She smiled. “I don’t think we can pretend that we ever wanted each other. He never so much as kissed me.”

  “Again, a bit informative.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Cristian’s rich voice filtered through. “May I come in?”

  “No,” her mother said. “You may not. Allegra is in her wedding dress, and it would be fatally unlucky for you to see her.”

  Allegra laughed. “Not dramatic, are you, Mother?”

  “You need all the luck you can get. If anything goes wrong with this wedding, I won’t simply disown you. I’ll kill you.”

  Allegra rolled her eyes and gathered her skirts, getting down off the stool while the seamstress helped her out of the gown. Then she hurriedly put her sweatpants back on, which was a kind of inglorious transformation.

  “Now you may come in,” her mother said.

  Her heart stuttered when Cristian walked in. He was looking perfect in a black T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. In a suit, casual clothes—or her very favorite, naked—Cristian always affected her.

  She had a feeling he always would.

  “Hello, Señora Valenti,” Cristian said, addressing her mother as he always did.

  “Cristian,” she said. “I haven’t seen you since you impregnated my only daughter and started a scandal.”

  “We’ve been busy,” he responded.

  Of course her mother didn’t ruffle him.

  “Yes, clearly,” she said. “Not seeing to the fine details of the wedding, so I assume losing yourselves in debauchery?”

  “Mother, you were just scolding me for being informative,” Allegra muttered.

  “It’s true. But I can’t unlearn what you told me. I’m forced to assume you’ve both been lost in depravity since last I saw you.”

  “The depravity is consuming,” Cristian said. “There’s barely time for anything else.”

  “Indeed.” Her mother’s focus shifted suddenly. “Cristian, I was very sorry to hear about the castillo. It would have been the perfect place for the two of you to get married.”

  “I doubt we would have married there either way,” Allegra said, horrified by the thought of forcing Cristian to marry her at the site of his childhood torture.

  It was too brutal.

  And, she feared, too apt.

  “Why not? If you have a castle at your disposal...”

  “Sadly,” Cristian said, “we don’t. At least, not a whole castle. It’s more of a...ruin.”

  “Half a ruin.”

  “May I borrow Allegra for a moment?” Cristian asked, directing the question at her mother.

  “For debauchery?” she asked.

  “Nothing so exciting as debauchery.”

  It surprised Allegra how charming he could be with other people. It shouldn’t. She’d seen it play out many times over the years. But she’d forgotten. These past weeks with him had been nothing short of intense. He was kind to her at times, other times closed off. But he was never...easy. Not like this.

  “Of course,” her mother said. “We’re finished with the fitting anyway. But do return her before dinner. I traveled quite a while and won’t like to miss a meal. And Allegra shouldn’t in her condition.”

  He nodded, lacing his fingers through Allegra’s and leading her out of the room. Her heart thundered hard, echoing in her head as he led her down the hall and toward his room. Holding hands was...not something they normally did. He was all about big, passionate embraces and consuming kisses. But this simple act of intimacy did something to her she couldn’t explain.

  He swept her into his room then, something that didn’t happen often. They slept together at night, but always in Allegra’s room. Cristian definitely seemed to keep his own space to himself. And this, combined with the hand-holding, was doing dangerous things to her already tender heart.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I have something for you,” he said, moving away from the door and crossing to his desk.

  “You mean, something other than the upcoming wedding, all of the accommodations for my mother, and the baby?” At a mention of the baby a strange look crossed his face. He really wasn’t comfortable talking about their child. Not beyond the practicalities, anyway.

  She had been comfortable with that for a while now, if only because she wasn’t exactly sanguine about the situation. It still seemed surreal. But she was nearly three months pregnant now, and it really was time to start facing the fact that they were going to have an actual baby.

  Still, she wasn’t going to push him. Not now. Not when he had something for her.

  “This was found in the rubble of the castillo,” he said, picking a flat, black velvet box up from the desk. “It is part of the family jewelry. A part of the collection that your ring came from.”

  He opened the box to reveal an ornate necklace with white-and-champagne-colored diamonds glittering in a beautiful platinum setting.

  “It’s beautiful, Cristian,” she said, taking a step forward.

  She realized fully then that these pieces were from a family collection. Cristian had an old and titled family, so of course the ring and the necklace had all belonged to someone else. She had to wonder if they had belonged to his mother. If they had belonged to his wife.

  It wasn’t fair to be upset if they had. If he had given them to Sylvia, it only made sense. And it was right. The other woman was dead, she had no call to be jealous of her.

&
nbsp; Except, she was the woman that Cristian had chosen. Allegra was the woman that Cristian was stuck with.

  She gritted her teeth.

  “What’s wrong?” His dark eyes were far too sharp, far too keen.

  She lifted her shoulder, trying to look casual. “Nothing.”

  “Except that you look upset. Which is not the reaction I expected when presenting you with a piece of priceless jewelry. But I should know by now that I can’t exactly predict you, Allegra.”

  “If you could predict me you would not like me half as much.”

  “That statement is impossible to prove. Perhaps, you might experiment with being predictable, and see if that is in fact the case.”

  “I’m not quite sure what you would find predictable. So, I think I’ll skip it. I’ll remain Allegra.”

  “And I’ll remain bemused. Why are you unhappy?”

  “I’m not unhappy,” she said, reaching out. “Give me my necklace.”

  “No,” he said, snapping the lid shut. “Not until you tell me why you’re unhappy.”

  “I’m ecstatic. Except for the part where you won’t give me my present. That’s annoying.”

  He took a step toward her, slowly opening the jewelry box again. “I will give it to you. But you’re not going to snatch it out of the box like a grasping Dickensian urchin. You’re going to allow me to present it to you. As a man should present a gift to his fiancée.”

  He moved so that he was standing behind her, his chest pressed against her back, the heat from his body firing her blood. Even though she was angry at him. It would always be that way, she knew that it would. What a terrible thing that she wanted Cristian in such a way that nothing seemed to cool her desire for him.

  He lifted the necklace from the box, and began to settle it over her breastbone, the platinum and gemstones heavy, and all at once it felt difficult to breathe.