She hesitated. “You do me a great honor with your offer,” she said formally, politely, not meeting his eyes. “But I have no wish to marry solely to provide a family unit for this child. You and I lead very different lives.”
“That we do,” he said grimly, annoyed at the way she’d reduced his proposal to a mere matter of convenience, conveniently ignoring the fact that he’d done exactly the same thing a few minutes ago. “And there’s no way I’m ever going back overseas, not for you, not for anyone.”
“I didn’t ask you to!” Her tone wasn’t so calm anymore. Pivoting, she flounced to the other side of the counter and stood staring out the window with her back to him.
The unspoken dismissal broke the thin threads by which he’d been holding together his temper. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, if I’d fall into line like a good little subject and—”
She whirled. “If you were a good little subject, you’d be even more objectionable than you are now!”
“Well, you aren’t exactly my first choice, either.” Her belligerent words had stung. “My plan was to marry a home-grown American girl who doesn’t have a drop of blue blood or aspirations to a title when I was good and ready. A princess doesn’t exactly fill the bill.”
“Good!” Her face was flushed, and unless he was mistaken, her eyes held the sheen of tears. “Then you have no problem accepting that you did the honorable thing and proposed and I chose to decline.”
“Fine!” He was as mad as she was now. Then he thought about what he’d just said. “Hold it. Not fine. My child isn’t going to be born a bastard.”
Her brows snapped together. “That’s a nasty word and I don’t appreciate you applying it to our child.”
“Why not? Other people will.”
One of the tears that had been swimming around in her eyes broke the dam and spilled down her cheek. “They wouldn’t dare.”
“Of course they would. You know how people love good gossip. Just imagine the fodder an illicit liaison between royals of Wynborough and Thortonburg would provide them—” The look on her face stopped him mid-sentence.
A moment of silence as pregnant as the woman before him hung in the air between them.
“You weren’t going to tell them, were you?” A part of him wondered why it bothered him so much. After all, it would get him out of an inconvenient marriage and ensure that he didn’t get sucked back into his father’s title-seeking sphere again. But a bigger part of him rejected the idea that his child wouldn’t bear his name.
“You weren’t even going to tell them,” he accused again. “You planned to go home to Wynborough with this baby in your belly and never tell your parents who the father was, didn’t you?”
“Why not? It makes sense.” Her face was still flushed with anger. “Neither of us wants to marry the other. You weren’t planning on becoming a father now. There’s no reason to involve yourself in my life.”
“No reason?” He was so mad, he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her. “You’re going to bear my child in a matter of months. My child. Not that of some anonymous man who you can dismiss for his rather negligible role in the conception.” He stalked around the counter until he was only inches from her, leaning forward to speak right into her startled, defiant face. “This baby is going to be legitimate if I have to tie you up and fly to Las Vegas for a quickie wedding.”
Her eyes rounded. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” he invited. “And while I’m at it, I’ll get on the telephone and call your parents. I’m sure your father would be pleased to know I’d done the right thing by you.”
Her face drained of color. “You can’t tell my parents,” she said. She half turned away from him. “This baby can’t be—” She stopped abruptly and put a hand out toward the counter, and he saw her sway. “I feel…” He didn’t wait for any more. He’d never seen anyone faint, and he wasn’t going to start now. Taking a half step that brought him to her side, he drew her into his arms.
She gave a startled squeak that trailed off into a moan, but she didn’t fight him, merely laid her head against his chest. After a moment, he led her into the living room and laid her on the couch, then placed a pillow under her feet.
She moaned again, but this time there was an element of relief in the sound. The band of tension squeezing his throat relaxed marginally and he nudged her over gently to make space to perch beside her.
“Can I get you anything?” His voice was deep with concern, and he didn’t care if she noticed.
“No, I’ll be all right.” She groped for his hand. “Just— don’t go.”
Her small fingers found his and clung, and he was astonished by the force of the emotion that roared through him. His throat grew tight again and he had to clear it roughly before he squeezed her fingers and said, “I’m right here.”
Long moments passed. He watched her closely. Her eyes were closed, dark silky lashes lying soft against her cheeks, and gradually a hint of pink crept back to replace her pallor. Her clutch on his hand lessened. Even so, he made no move to release her.
Finally, her eyelashes fluttered and slowly her eyelids rose to reveal deep, mysterious emerald pools that swam with emotions he couldn’t name. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry.” Disgusted with himself, he looked away from her. “I should be treating you more carefully—”
“I’m not sorry about almost fainting,” she said, smiling. “I meant I was sorry to have gotten into a shouting match with you. I’m not usually such a shrew.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he told her firmly. “You weren’t the only one shouting, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’d noticed,” she said in a dry tone. Then her face sobered. “I’m also sorry for treating your feelings and wishes as if they count for nothing. I don’t want to deny you your child.”
“We can talk about that later,” he said, anxious not to let more discord mar the day. She still might not understand that marriage wasn’t negotiable; it was a fact, but there was nothing to be gained by antagonizing her again right now.
An odd odor assailed his nostrils, almost as if something was burning—
“The casserole!” they shouted in unison as Rafe bolted for the kitchen.
Five
Marrying him was out of the question.
As she applied mascara to her lashes several days later, Elizabeth felt a definite kick just beneath the right side of her rib cage. Laying her hand gently over the swell of her belly, she thought again of the father of the baby growing within her.
Again? That was a bit of a lie, she thought ruefully. Rafe Thorton had been in her thoughts since the night he’d taken her into the garden house and he hadn’t left yet.
What was she going to do? He hadn’t sounded as if he was kidding when he’d told her she would marry him. Not kidding at all. Even though she knew he didn’t love her, knew she was one of the last women on earth he’d ever take as wife of his own free will, he planned to marry her to provide his child with a legitimate heritage.
An admirable intent, certainly. It would be even more admirable if she wasn’t the one he was intent on marrying.
Rafe’s intense blue eyes materialized in her mental meanderings and she groaned. If only the darned man wasn’t so appealing. Irresistible. Adorable… He’d die if he heard that description, she thought with a soft chuckle. But the chuckle dried in her throat when she recalled the sharp words they’d exchanged.
Since their last confrontation they’d been as polite as casual acquaintances, avoiding anything the least bit controversial. He’d taken her to the Parada del Sol, they’d watched the beginning of a hot air balloon race and, at dawn the day before he’d driven her into the desert to watch the sun rise. He’d been gracious, friendly…and as remote as a distant moon.
There was no way they could marry. Aside from the attraction that seemed to charge the air between them, they
had nothing in common. He’d been independent for more than a decade, had lived in the States long enough to be truly an American now. She was enjoying her experience in the country immeasurably, but she’d never known the kind of freedom these people took for granted.
She loved and respected her family. Though Rafe had said little about his own, she had gotten the distinct impression he wasn’t particularly fond of his nearest kin.
She’d been raised with an exceptionally fine liberal arts education that had prepared her for no practical work. Rafe had used his education to carve out an amazingly successful career for himself.
No, marriage was definitely out of the question, regardless of what Rafe had said about Las Vegas.
Las Vegas! Oh, how she’d love to see it. Serena had been married there a short time ago in one of those “have to see it to believe it” chapels, as her sister had put it, laughing gaily. Elizabeth had gotten on the Internet this afternoon and looked up some information on the town that had risen in the middle of the Nevada desert. It certainly looked like a fascinating place and she was determined to visit it one day.
The baby stirred beneath her palm and she rubbed her hand over her belly again, sighing. The next few months couldn’t go fast enough. Not only was she aching with the need to hold her child in her arms, she was nearly as excited at the thought of having a waistline again.
It was bad enough that Rafe had to provoke her into acting like a fishwife, but even worse that she felt so fat and unattractive around him. She longed for her former slim figure, the figure she’d had when they’d first met and he hadn’t known who she was.
A knock on the door of her suite startled her and she nearly dropped the mascara wand she was still holding.
“Are you ready?”
“Almost. Just give me a moment.”
Hastily she finished adding the little makeup she normally wore and picked up her jacket and bag from where she’d laid them on the bed. Opening the door, she stepped into the hallway to face Rafe and her breath caught in her throat.
He was so handsome. In a simple cream shirt and khaki pants, he managed to look better to her than other men did in a tux. He smiled when he saw her, and the deep creases his dimples made flashed in his lean cheeks.
“Ready to go?” he asked her.
“Ready.” As he took her elbow and escorted her through the house she added, “Though it might be nice to know where we’re headed.”
“I told you it’s a surprise,” he said, grinning smugly. He led her into the garage and held the door of the sleek Mercedes she’d discovered he kept in addition to his serviceable truck. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
He drove her northeast through the city to Scottsdale Municipal Airport where he apparently already had arranged a flight. But when they walked onto the airfield, Elizabeth stopped and resisted his hand on her arm urging her forward.
“That’s a small plane,” she said in dismay. And it was. Though she’d often taken puddle-jumpers back and forth between Wynborough and the U.K., this plane looked like a life-sized toy. Two men standing outside the single door waved when they caught sight of Rafe and again he urged her forward.
“It’s a twin-engine and it’s bigger than some private planes,” Rafe said. “If I had a pilot’s license, we could have taken a two-seater.”
“And how many seats are there in this?” she asked apprehensively.
“Four. That’s the pilot and co-pilot waiting for us.”
“It takes two men to fly something this small?”
“Not normally, no. This usually is only used for pleasure tours around the city.”
“Ah-hah! So we’re going somewhere outside Phoenix.”
By then they had reached the waiting pilots, and after quick introductions Elizabeth was led up a very small, very steep flight of steps into the tiny cabin.
It was beautifully appointed, far nicer than she’d expected. Served her right for forgetting that while Rafe might act like nothing more than an American businessman, he had a small fortune at his disposal.
As she settled into the comfortable leather seat she asked, “Now do I get to know where we’re going?”
“Actually, we have two destinations,” Rafe told her. “We’ll only be doing a flyover of the first one, though. Just settle back and enjoy.”
“Settle back and enjoy,” she grumbled. But the anticipation dancing in his eyes seduced her into an equally good humor, and as the little plane rose and circled to the north, she relaxed and enjoyed the receding view of the city and the interesting combination of desert and mountain around it.
“That’s Flagstaff,” Rafe told her a few minutes later. “And in just a minute, if you look out your window, you’ll see the highest point in the state of Arizona, Humphrey’s Peak.”
“Who was Humphrey?”
He laughed. “I don’t have a clue. See, I told you I didn’t know everything about this country.”
She continued to gaze out her window at the peaks and valleys they passed, and then they flew over a densely wooded forest. “Where are we now?” she asked.
“Just keep watching.” Rafe unbuckled his seat belt and came to kneel at her side. “In another minute or two, you should be able to see it.”
“See what?” She was intensely aware of his big warm body so close, the clean smell of newly showered man and cologne. To distract herself she angled an elbow at his ribs, but he dodged away, chuckling. He was impossible to resist in this mood. And she was so tired of forcing herself to ignore the pull of sensual promise that his intense eyes promised.
“Now look,” he said in her ear and she turned her head and peered out her window, resolutely ignoring the shiver that rushed down her spine at the sensation of hot breath bathing her sensitive earlobe.
“Oh! It’s—it’s incredible. Beautiful. Huge.” Below their little plane the Grand Canyon yawned wider and deeper than she’d ever thought possible. She turned to him, overwhelmed. “Oh, Rafe, thank you! I hadn’t expected to get to see this during my trip.”
His face was only inches away, his broad shoulders and arms bracketing her seat and creating a small haven of intimacy. Before she allowed herself to think too much about it, she leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss over his lips. Then she quickly turned her head and looked out the window again.
“What happened to the ‘no kissing’ edict?” he asked in her ear. His voice was deep and seductive, and she took deep breaths until the urge to turn back into his arms subsided enough to control.
She cleared her throat. “I made the rule. I can break it if I like,” she said.
He laughed yet again and warm breath played over her ear. Slowly his arms came around her from behind, drawing her back against his chest, surrounding her with heat and scent and the feel of his hard forearms clasped over her belly. Her breasts rested against his arms and her breath began to come faster as desire rushed through her.
To distract herself from her body’s messages, she concentrated on the glowing colors of the canyon and the distinct striations in the rock that she knew marked different periods of Earth’s geological history dating back millions of years.
The plane banked to the left, turning away from the morning sun and heading west as they followed the shining ribbon that was the mighty Colorado River winding through the canyon. The canyon narrowed, then widened again and finally a huge, gleaming lake appeared beneath them.
“That’s Lake Mead,” Rafe explained. “It’s man-made, a result of the Hoover Dam, which you’ll see in a minute.”
And then the dam was past, and they were turning due west once again. The flat plain of a desert spread below them and in the distance some sort of city rose out of the desert like a mirage—
“Where are we?” Suspicion tinged her tone.
“Don’t recognize Tinseltown? I wish I’d been able to bring you in at night, but we’d have had to miss the canyon then.” Casually, Rafe withdrew his arms and straightened, returning to his seat to buck
le himself in as if he was completely unaffected by the embrace in which he’d been holding her.
“Las Vegas! We’re going to Las Vegas?” She didn’t know whether to be apprehensive or excited. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he’d brought her here when they’d been dancing around the topic of marriage for days. Could it?
“It’s a unique place.”
“My sister was married here recently,” she informed him. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”
Rafe shrugged his shoulders. “I thought you’d enjoy spending the day here. But if not, we can just refuel and head back home.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m sure I would enjoy it. But…” There was no way to say it without sounding paranoid and silly. I’m afraid you’ll make me marry you? Too ridiculous for words. She was entirely too suspicious for her own good.
As if he’d read her mind, Rafe laid a hand gently over hers. “You’ll like it, I promise,” he said. “I would never make you do something that you didn’t want to do.”
And so she found herself in a taxi less than half an hour later, heading through the glaring sunshine to a city that never slept.
He took her to Caesar’s first, leading her through the casinos to the huge shopping plaza beyond. They lunched at the Italian restaurant in the center and she marveled at the sky that changed from dawn to dusk, through night and back to day again in less than an hour.
At the Mirage, Rafe had gotten tickets to a special showing of Siegfried and Roy’s magic show that included unbelievable special effects as well as their trademark white tigers and other animals. When the show ended, Rafe escorted her to the front desk, where the mention of his name produced quick and efficient service in a private office.
Pocketing the key he had received, Rafe smiled at her startled expression as he led her to the elevator. “Well, you can’t expect to go all day without rest, can you? I got a suite so that you could take a nap if you like.”
The Pregnant Princess Page 8
