by Lucy Monroe
“Not easily, no.”
“Were you upset?”
“You could not tell?”
“I thought…” She’d been very careful not to dwell on their last night together, but now, looking back, she realized he’d shown a near desperation for what he knew would be their last time together.
Looking at that night in light of what came later, she could see that he had indeed been really upset about breaking up with her.
She almost apologized, before she remembered the choice to walk away had been his. “You made the decision.”
He nodded. “And you chose not to fight.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she continued to argue.
What had there been to fight? By his own admission, he hadn’t loved her.
What she had to decide now was: would their child be happy in a home where only one parent loved the other one?
Her gut told her, “Yes.” In big, lead-heavy letters.
There was no particular pleasure in the knowledge, but there was a certain amount of relief. She could write her child’s destiny with a very different brush than her parents had used on Gillian’s.
If she had the courage.
If she trusted Maks to let her into that inner circle of his protection, even if he didn’t love her.
“You knew I was considering making you the next queen of Volyarus.”
“I didn’t think of it in those terms, but yes.”
“I did and you had to know that. Had to know that I was predisposed toward marriage to you, but still you let me go without any effort to convince me to stay.”
She couldn’t argue that particular point. From his perspective, he was right. “I didn’t see any advantage in doing so.”
“Did you not? Though you claim to love me.”
Maybe she would have been able to convince him. Probably actually. From the way he was talking. That might have made Maks feel weak and even to question his own honor and dedication to duty.
Love ebbed and flowed in life, but Maks’s sense of duty never would. If he felt it to her via their children, then it would never wane.
Would it be enough?
The one secret wish she’d cherished in her heart for her entire life was to be so special to just one person that they claimed her as irrevocably theirs and loved her more than their own convenience.
She’d never expected to come above everything in another person’s life. Her aspirations had not been that lofty. And it was a good thing. Even if Maks loved her, he would never put her, or anyone, ahead of his duty to country.
But she’d wanted to be more. More than just the woman who got accidentally pregnant with his heir. More than the woman he could walk away from because her ovaries were flawed.
And if she could not be more, could she be happy?
Looking deep into her own heart, she thought maybe she could.
She stared at him, her heart squeezing in her chest.
No matter her arguments, she knew one thing was true, even if he didn’t believe it. “Love is a very powerful force and I do love you.”
“Even now?”
“Even now.” Had all of this been to get her to admit it?
No. Again, the total lack of triumph on Maks’s handsome features spoke for itself.
His strong jaw set in a frown, definitely no victory there. “And you are refusing to even consider marriage to me until you have hit your second trimester. Where is the great power of love in that?”
Once again, Gillian found herself opening and closing her mouth without the tiniest sound emerging.
He did look smug now, though it was tempered by something she wasn’t sure she could name. If she wasn’t so certain it was impossible, she’d almost call it vulnerability.
“Unrequited love hurts,” she gritted out.
Didn’t he realize that?
Sitting up, his agitation evident, he demanded, “In what way am I hurting you?”
“You don’t want to be with me.”
“I assure you, I do.”
“Because of the baby.”
“I wanted to ask you to marry me before I knew you were pregnant.”
“But my supposed infertility stopped you.”
“It is not supposed. It is a medical fact.”
“Which means I may never be able to conceive again.” He needed to acknowledge that fact and deal with it.
“Then we use a surrogate, or adopt.”
“What about the potential problems with the surrogate or adoptive mother?”
“I do not share my father’s fears, nor would I be open to my mother’s type of ultimatum should my representative approach a likely candidate. I will already be married.”
“With an airtight prenuptial agreement.”
“Exactly.”
She almost laughed, but shock was making her too breathless for that. He wanted the prenup. The cagey politician.
“You definitely want more than one child?” she asked.
His parents had stopped after him.
“Yes.” Rock solid certainty in that single word.
“Even if it means using a surrogate, or adopting?”
“Yes.”
“What about in vitro?” Her hand automatically went to her stomach as she thought of giving the child in her womb a brother or a sister.
“It depends how open you are to multiple attempts at the procedure. We will not risk your health by multiple births of more than twins.”
That’s what bothered him about in vitro? The risks to her health? “How many children do you want?”
“At least two, but I would like a house full.”
She’d been raised an only child, but the mental image of her and Maks surrounded by a brood of children was incredibly appealing. “You live in a castle. That’s a lot of children.”
He laughed, tension leaving his body as he relaxed again in that wholly appealing pose she tried her best to ignore. “No more than four then.”
“Four?” she asked faintly, her heart racing with emotions she didn’t want to name.
“We will have help.”
“I won’t leave the raising of my children to strangers.”
“Naturally not, but you will not be required to change every diaper.”
She pulled a throw pillow into her lap, resting her arms on it as she tucked her legs up onto the couch. “And you won’t change any, being a prince and all.”
“I did not say that.”
She shook her head. “Right.”
“We have strayed from topic.”
“What topic is that?”
“You claim loving me hurts you and therefore you cannot commit to marriage to me.” Tension seeped subtly back into his frame with each word he uttered.
He did not like the concept at all, she could see that now.
But she wasn’t going to lie to him to spare his feelings. He hadn’t with hers. “You don’t love me.”
“So?”
“You aren’t making this easy.”
“I disagree.”
She snorted. “Big surprise.”
“You get sarcastic when you are tired, I have noticed.”
“I’m not tired.” But then she yawned, giving lie to her claim.
He smiled, the expression indulgent. “No, not tired at all.”
“Okay, so maybe I am. What’s your excuse?” It was getting harder and harder to maintain any level of annoyance with him, so her question came out more teasing than accusatory.
“For?”
“Your sarcasm.”
“I’m a sardonic guy.”
On that, at least, they could agree.
“You are saying that the mere fact that I do not love you causes you pain?” he asked.
Finally. He got it. “Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You discarded me so easily because you don’t love me. If you had, you would not have let me go without a thought.”
“Like you did me?” he asked
, his brow raised in inquiry.
Or simple superiority.
She chose to believe it was the former, but in her heart of hearts she couldn’t deny there was some truth to his comparison.
It ignored parts of reality she couldn’t, though. “It wasn’t without thought. I’ve missed you terribly.”
Another admission she hadn’t wanted to make, but had been compelled to because of his willful refusal to understand. Gillian glared at the culprit.
Maks did not appear fazed in the least by her small show of anger. “I missed you as well. I have said so.”
“It was your idea to break up,” she reminded him with some desperation as she felt the inexorable conclusion of this discussion growing closer and closer.
“I did not feel I had a choice.”
Which was exactly why they had to wait to make plans for the future. Plans, she acknowledged, if only to herself, that would include marriage and the title princess in her future. “If I miscarry—”
“Stop talking like that immediately. You are not going to lose this child.” His scowl seemed a lot more sincere than her glare had felt.
She didn’t want to argue that particular point anyway. And every day closer to her twelve-week mark decreased her chances of losing the baby she’d already grown to love and felt such a fierce protectiveness toward.
“You might fall in love with someone else.” She voiced her deepest fear, the one thing that no clause in a prenuptial agreement, no matter how carefully worded, could truly guard against.
No matter what he thought, love was an unstoppable force. He only had to look at his own father. There could be no doubt that Maks had come by his sense of duty and love of country naturally. And yet, the king had maintained a relationship for most of his adulthood that was not good for the Crown.
Because he loved the countess.
Maks looked supremely unconvinced. “That won’t happen.”
“Even you can’t prevent it by sheer force of will.”
“Of course I can. It is not merely a matter of will, but of actions. I can guarantee against it without doubt.”
She did not share his confidence. “How?”
“Not allowing another woman close enough for a relationship to grow into intimacy that could lead to love, for a start,” he said, like it should be obvious.
He had a lot of experience keeping people at bay, but proximity could undermine good intentions. “What if she works for you?”
“This is hypothetical as you well know. My personal office staff are all male, but if I thought a woman who worked for me was attracted to me, I would transfer her, or fire her, depending on how she revealed that attraction.”
“You wouldn’t be tempted?” Gillian had been to his company’s headquarters.
And while his personal office staff might be male, there were still plenty of beautiful women working for Yurkovich Tanner, both in the U.S.A. and in Volyarus.
“No. Would you?”
“By another man? Of course not.”
“But people in love cheat on each other all the time.”
“Not all the time.” But it did happen. “Most don’t.”
“Most? You are sure about that?”
What was she, Dr. Ruth? How should Gillian know? “Nana and Papa never have.”
Maks nodded, conceding easily. “They are exemplary people, but they’ve also protected their marriage vows.”
“Yes.”
“As will I.”
“You’re so sure you can’t fall in love with someone else.”
“You’re so sure I can?”
“No, but it’s possible.” Though the more they talked, the less likely she found it.
This man was determined never to be weakened by love. She couldn’t believe she’d just realized that about him because, really? It should have been obvious from Day One.
She’d blinded herself to his disdain for the emotion, but it rang through clear when the subject of his father’s “vacations” came up.
“And people in love, they never fall out of love and fall in love with someone else?” he pushed.
“You know it happens.”
“Because they did not protect that love, nurture it, make it paramount.”
“You sound like you understand love awfully well for a man who denies its reality.”
“Oh, I admit love exists. I deny its all-strengthening positive power. Love undermines duty and makes strong men weak.” That he believed every word he was saying could not be denied. It was in every line of his body, his tone and even the determination glowing in his brown eyes. “Insert relationship for love and you have my perspective on our marriage.”
She swallowed, struck to the very core with his definition of how to handle marriage. “Our marriage would be that important to you?”
“It would come second to nothing.”
He was delusional if he thought that. “That’s not true.”
“You accuse me of lying.”
“About this? Definitely. Volyarus comes first, last and always with you. Our marriage won’t trump that—it wouldn’t even if you loved me.”
“But our marriage is of paramount importance to our country’s well-being. Stability in the monarchy has always marked stability for Volyarus.”
They weren’t talking about the same thing. “If it came between an important political event and our anniversary, the event would win.”
“I am a better planner than that.”
“Some things are unavoidable.”
“Fewer than you might imagine.”
Was he making a promise? The expression in his dark eyes said he was.
Against her better judgment, Gillian wanted to believe him. Her unique upbringing had taught her that even if a person didn’t give the right name to it, they could have a necessary role in her life.
Like her grandparents, true mom and dad though they would never stand for being called that.
They had given her so much throughout her life, putting off their own dreams of early retirement and travel to see her raised.
Maks was offering her the same kind of commitment. It didn’t come wrapped in the pretty bow of love, but it wasn’t something to simply dismiss as unworthy, either.
No, Maks committed to her wasn’t something to dismiss lightly at all.
“Why a cruise ship?” she couldn’t help asking.
Now triumph flared in his espresso gaze. “Ariston can guarantee word of the wedding does not get out before we want it to.”
“Ariston?”
“Spiridakous.”
“The shipping magnate?” She wasn’t in the least surprised Maks was friends with someone so wealthy and powerful.
The man would be king one day and was already CEO of a company hugely competitive in the global market even though few people even realized it existed.
“His company is solidly diversified.”
“With a cruise line?” It must be nice.
“Among other things.”
“You only brought up the inside passage cruise because you know it’s one I’ve wanted to go on.” She’d mentioned it once.
Just once, but this man never forgot anything she was coming to realize.
“I will always try to meet your desires.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“ALWAYS?” SHE ASKED, feeling a sense of inevitability wash over her quickly followed by that irrepressible emotion: hope.
If she was burned by it again, she wasn’t sure her heart would survive it. “We should wait until after the baby is born. To be sure.”
“No. Stop. I have told you. No more of this negative thinking.”
“I’m just trying to be realistic.”
He laughed. Like she’d said something incredibly funny. “You are one of the worst pessimists I have ever known.”
“I am not. I’m an optimist.”
“In Eeyore’s universe, maybe.”
“You like Winnie the Pooh?”
“My mothe
r read the books to me as a child, just like your grandmother did you. I was not raised on a different planet.”
“No, I know. I just…” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say.
Telling him she didn’t think he’d had anything that normal in his childhood wouldn’t go over well. And it wouldn’t be true, either.
“If you are an optimist, then you will believe in our future and that of our child.”
“Wow. You’re so sure of yourself.”
“I am not wrong.”
“You are arrogant.”
“Sometimes.”
A lot more often than that, but saying so would just be querulous. And she didn’t want to be argumentative. Not right now. She wanted to dive into his arms and have him tell her everything would be okay.
But she’d left those kinds of fairy tales in childhood.
The thought of approaching him for physical comfort sparked a strange sort of tension inside her as well.
Wanting a minute to regroup (as she was dangerously close to giving in), she stood and picked up the plates. “I’ll just put these in the kitchen.”
“Let me help.” He jumped to his feet, quickly gathering the other detritus of their casual meal.
“I’m pregnant, not helpless.”
“You didn’t see me taking the plates right out of your hand, did you?” His smile was teasing, his expression unexpectedly lighthearted.
“No,” she admitted grudgingly.
“There you have it. Polite, not overly protective.”
Not entirely sure she minded overly protective or that he’d avoided it altogether, she found herself smiling back.
They fell into a surprisingly easy and natural rhythm as the dishes were rinsed and put in the dishwasher. “You’re awfully domesticated for a prince.”
“So you’ve said before.”
“And you claim to have lived on your own for more than a decade.”
“I have.”
Right. “You have a housekeeper and a maid for a penthouse apartment in a posh building that comes with access to an onsite chef and laundry service.”
“So?”
She wiped down counters while he finished loading the dishwasher. “So, you’re a dab hand at rinsing dishes and you aren’t going to convince me the maid, much less the housekeeper, leaves them in the sink for you to deal with.”
“I went to university for four years here, as well as two additional to get my MBA.” He put a soap tab in the door and shut the appliance with practiced efficiency. “That is six years doing my own laundry and dishes.”
