The Queen's Nine-Month Scandal

by Abby Green

  She had an overwhelming urge to see who he really was. Silently she moved and picked it up. Flipping it to the page of identification she almost dropped it when she saw a very recognizable, clean-shaven face staring back at her with implacable arrogance. She read his name with growing dread: Daniel Sasha Petrovsky. No wonder he’d looked faintly familiar, he was one of the most photographed men in the world.

  Cold fingers touched her spine when she realized the ramifications of being found with such a man. He might be one of the world’s most dashing and generous philanthropists but he’d never quite shed his playboy persona. Myths surrounded him about his Irish-Russian lineage; his youth spent in an orphanage. How his life had been transformed when he’d received one of the largest inheritances in years at the age of twenty-three from an estranged Russian relative. By then he’d already become famous as a prodigious, fearless photojournalist covering the worst war zones in the world. It was only now that Analia recalled feeling the raised skin of a scar on his back last night and she shivered to think of what might have caused it.

  The passport dropped to the floor from her suddenly nerveless fingers and Analia looked to the bed where Sasha—Daniel—moved slightly. Panic filled her. She fled before he could wake and find her, leaving the mask behind.

  As she made her way back to her hotel through the narrow and atmospheric streets, she told herself that he would probably wake and hardly notice her absence. Her heart clenched so hard that she had to stop for a moment.

  The thought of last night meaning nothing to him hurt more than she could fathom. The fact that it had affected her so deeply scared her to death. How on earth was she going to be able to relegate him to a secret part of her heart and head and get on with her life while knowing he was somewhere in the world?

  Analia’s mouth firmed. She had no choice. She would just have to. She had a life most people would never understand. She served her country, not herself. Last night had been her one chance to taste that delicious freedom and she would have to leave it behind. She was no longer the Virgin Queen of Azoria and that would be her secret...forever.

  * * *

  ‘Daniel, you’re going to have to decide where to base the Petrovsky Philanthropic Foundation sooner or later. I can’t field the calls forever.’

  ‘I know, Philip,’ Daniel absently answered his chief advisor in London absently. His hand closed around something and he looked down to see the familiar—and by now very crumpled—piece of black lace. He curtly ended the phone conversation and stuffed the material back into his pocket.

  He looked out the window of the plane and saw nothing but clouds. He sighed deeply. Eight weeks had passed since that night in Venice. Each day was etched like a brand onto his brain since he’d woken up to find the bed empty with not a trace of her left behind except the mask which had hidden her from him. Alexandra. A made-up name. A beautiful ghost.

  He’d called his friend the next day to quiz him about his guest list but Andreas had been uncustomarily unhelpful.

  ‘Look, I’d like to help you track down your latest conquest Daniel but I have no recollection of any guest by that name...’

  More irritated than he’d like to admit he’d asked tersely, ‘Maybe you’re caught up with a conquest of your own?’

  To his surprise his Greek friend had taken a deep breath and admitted heavily, ‘Something like that. Siena DePiero has turned up in London...’

  Daniel had whistled softly, ‘You’re going to go after her then?’

  Andreas’s voice had been tight. ‘We have unfinished business.’

  Daniel had felt some sympathy for his friend’s single-minded intent to find the woman he couldn’t forgive, even after five years. He could empathize with that single—mindedness now.

  The knowledge burned in his gut though—she’d looked at his passport before she’d left because he’d found it on the floor. So she knew who he was. And yet she hadn’t been in touch. Maybe it was karma for a man like him who had loved and left women in his wake all his life.

  A cynical smile touched his mouth. What had he expected? That she’d have declared undying love just because she’d been innocent? His mouth tightened. And since when had he ever had such notions?

  The feeling of peace he’d experienced that night with her in his arms mocked him now. It had shattered the moment he’d woken and found her gone. And truth be told, as much as he wanted to find her again, a part of him was also wary. She’d touched something deep inside him that had been locked away ever since he was a tiny boy.

  For the first time in his adult life, he felt exposed. The last time that had happened had been when he was five, at the orphanage, when a couple had chosen another child over him. After that day, he’d greeted prospective parents with an angry, gray-eyed glare. Of course they hadn’t chosen the wild-looking child, and Daniel had never had to deal with the excoriating sense of rejection again.

  But right now, his well-ingrained self-protection was fast coming second to finding his mystery lover. He told himself again that he had a valid reason: the protection had failed so she could even be pregnant. He told himself this was why he wanted to find her so badly. But he knew himself well enough by now to know it for such a falsehood. He wanted to find her because he wanted her. He could still taste her on his tongue. His heart beat fast just thinking about her.

  ‘Mr Petrovsky? You wanted the papers?’

  Daniel looked at the steward stupidly for a moment, his head full of soft skin and a lush mouth. His body was reacting and this lack of control made him curt as he accepted the pile of papers. ‘See to it I’m not disturbed again.’

  Daniel hated this evidence that a memory controlled him. He gritted his jaw as he flicked open the top paper, one of Europe’s main broadsheets. For a second he could only blink at the screaming headline and the huge colour picture underneath, even as he felt the shock register in his body.

  Virgin Queen Analia of Azoria pregnant by a mystery lover!

  Daniel looked at the picture. Half of her face was obscured by huge black glasses. Below was another picture and he saw the eyes that had been hidden from him under black lace. They were the deepest sapphire blue, with long dark lashes, exotically tilted at the corners. Stunning.

  Recognition fell like a cold hard stone into his gut. He took in the delicate jaw, small straight nose, lush mouth, glossy dark hair. The shape of her cheek. The way her breast had felt in his palm. The way she’d splintered around him. Daniel’s hands curled to fists around the paper, crushing it. Rage engulfed him, eclipsing the feeling of exposure. To finally know who she was...to finally be able to confront her and know why she’d run.

  With a calm belying his inner tumult, Daniel picked up his intercom to the pilot and instructed him to change the flight plan.

  * * *

  The City of Azoria’s palatial grand palace was a glorious mix of its heritage; Moorish, Greek, Italian and French. But Analia was oblivious to it. She’d just emerged from a meeting with Pierre and her chief advisors.

  One had stood up and declared censoriously, ‘The engagement with Prince Wilhelm is off. Unless you can marry the father of your child then you will leave us no choice but to force you to abdicate.’

  Pierre, her stalwart supporter had stood up angrily and said, ‘The people will decide what they want and they will want Queen Analia, as she is.’

  The meeting descended into shouts and anger until Analia stood up and slammed her fist on the table, shocking them as much as herself. In a quiet authoritative voice she said, ‘I’m still Queen and this meeting is adjourned for now. I am well aware that we face a crisis and I will do everything in my power to avert it.’

  Now she was wrung out and needed some space so she escaped to her office. Just then she heard her office door open and close behind her. She closed her eyes and said wearily, ‘Please Pierre, not now.’

  A deep, infinitely memorable voice from behind her said, ‘It’s not Pierre.’

  Analia’s eyes snap
ped open and a rush of adrenaline washed away any weariness. She wondered if she might be having an aural hallucination but then the voice came again. Harder.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say hello to the father of your child?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SLOWLY, AS IF in treacle, Analia turned around and the man who had been haunting her every waking and sleeping moment stood just feet away. Gone was the beard and overlong hair. He was clean—shaven, but no less devastating. He was all in black: black jeans, black top that hugged his chest and a battered black jacket. His eyes were cold gray. He looked murderous. Yet her heart was pumping with a mixture of excitement, joy and trepidation.

  Fearing she was going mad, she whispered, ‘Are you real?’

  He smiled grimly and drawled, ‘Oh I’m very real sweetheart, as you well know.’

  Analia blushed to recall how real he’d felt surging between her legs. She tingled there and squeezed her thighs together. As if aware of her movement, Daniel’s eyes dropped momentarily down her body and then back up.

  ‘How did you get in?’ she croaked, still not entirely sure if she was dreaming.

  His mouth was a hard flat line, not the wickedly sensuous curves she remembered. ‘Let’s just say my years as a war photographer gave me the ability to get into secured spaces, and that I’ve exposed a hole in your security detail.’

  He stood as still as a panther but she sensed his restless energy. Analia’s hands twisted in front of her her, a nervous habit.

  His voice was cold. ‘That was quite the spread in the papers. I take it the royal clinic nurse who leaked the story is no longer in your employment?’

  Analia blanched. She was unaware of how huge her eyes looked in her face. Her voice felt tight. ‘I was planning on getting in touch.’ It sounded weak to her ears.

  Daniel folded his arms, eyes narrowed unforgivingly on her. ‘Now that you have a reason.’

  Analia winced and hid away the very secret part of her that had fantasized about seeing him again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I didn’t mean for you to find out like that. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.’

  His look turned dark. ‘Didn’t mean for what exactly not to happen?’ He answered before she could, ‘Undoubtedly you mean that night when faced with this current crisis.’

  Analia instinctively put her hand over her belly. She felt fierce in her rejection of his words but couldn’t articulate it to this cold stranger.

  He started pacing, energy crackling between them like electricity. He stopped and faced her again, head thrown back, the patrician line of his nose pronounced. ‘What was it, Analia, or should I call you Alexandra? Should we perhaps stick to our pseudo names? Were you just looking for some willing stud to help you offload your virginity? Did you realize time was running out and you couldn’t bear the thought of a chinless prince pawing at you in the marital bed?’

  Daniel was so angry and full of explosive emotions mixed with intense desire that he could barely see straight. He wanted to alternately throttle Analia and kiss her senseless, and then take her right here in these opulent surroundings, until she screamed her pleasure the way she had before. He wanted to rip open the cream silk shirt she wore and push up the oh-so-pristine pencil skirt that showed off the slim perfection of her body. He wanted to undo the fussy chignon so that her hair fell into his hands.

  But then he noticed the way she’d blanched, going parchment white. And her eyes, those stunning sapphire eyes, were huge in her face. Incredible pain made his chest tighten and he breathed out, ‘That was it wasn’t it? You were just looking for someone who would relieve you of your burden. Your innocence.’

  The pain made Daniel lash out, ‘Did you get a taste for it Queen Analia? Did you court more experiences in the meantime, making up for lost time? Is the baby even mine? Tell me, did you use a mask each time to protect your precious identity or did they have the pleasure of knowing who you were—’

  ‘Stop it!’ Analia was trembling all over. She crossed her arms in a bid to hide it. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  As cold as ice Daniel said, ‘What was it like?’

  She hated that he was glaring at her so fiercely. Shakily she admitted, ‘That night I was feeling restless. I didn’t set out to sleep with someone, but I’ll admit that the thought of the future stretching ahead of me made me feel stifled, claustrophobic. I knew no matter what happened I’d have no choice but to go forward with an arranged marriage.’

  Daniel’s face hardened even more. ‘Until you became conveniently pregnant.’

  Analia protested vociferously. ‘No, I would never have done that.’

  ‘Yet you did,’ Daniel said flatly. Was there a bleakness to his voice or was it her fanciful imagination?

  ‘But you used protection.’ Analia pointed out.

  ‘It split.’ Daniel didn’t like to be reminded of how he’d used this as an excuse to look for her. When his reasons had been much less altruistic, and much more personal. Carnal. And the worst of it, when face to face with her now, was the knowledge that she’d known who he was. Something dark compelled him to confirm it. ‘You looked at my passport before you left, didn’t you?’Unmistakable guilt flashed across that exquisite face and she looked down. ‘Yes.’

  Old pain rose up inside Daniel like a spectre. ‘Perhaps that was it? I’m not good enough for a queen? The neglected son of a poor alcoholic Irishwoman and a disgraced Russian who had been cast out of his family? One who took his own life rather than deal with grief and pain?’

  ‘No,’ Analia denied, but felt shame lance her when she remembered thinking that Daniel, with his reputation, would be the worst possible person for her to have been seen with. But that had paled in significance in the face of the incredible pain in her heart to walk away from him.

  He admitted grimly, ‘I recognised you as soon as I saw your picture. We would have met sooner or later, somewhere.’

  Analia was pained. ‘I was afraid that might happen.’

  Daniel felt stark and empty inside at her words—at her confirmation that she’d never wanted to see him again. ‘You would have married into your inbred German royal family and got on with your life?’

  Analia felt sick. She’d dreaded being in a marriage of convenience and meeting Daniel again because it would have torn her apart. She willed him to try and understand. ‘I had no choice—my whole life has been set up for this moment. I have to have heirs and continue my line.’

  Bile rose from Daniel’s belly to think of that scenario. Analia lifted her chin in an unmistakably regal gesture and it mocked Daniel when he thought of noticing it before. ‘You’re the father of this child. I haven’t been with anyone else. Only you.’

  Daniel asked coolly, ‘Is it true that if you don’t name and marry the father of your child you’ll be forced to abdicate?’

  Analia’s throat ached with emotion. A hard ball seemed to be lodged in her chest. A fledgling dream, deep inside her, shattered to pieces at his dispassionate delivery. ‘Yes, unless my people want to keep me on the throne by a referendum vote.’

  Daniel came close to Analia and with every step his heart beat faster, the desire surged, but with iron control he pushed it down. The feeling of exposure was back and overwhelming. It took all his effort to push it down, deny it.

  ‘Well then, Queen Analia, I hope for your sake that your people vote to keep you on the throne because I am not about to offer my services as a husband of convenience just because of a rash mistake.’

  He reached out and trailed a finger down her cheek and to her jaw, and he hated that he was trembling. To hide it he slid his hand around the back of Analia’s neck and pulled her closer, seeing her eyes widen. Desire rose up like a ravenous beast inside him and giving into a temptation stronger than he could resist, he bent his head and took her mouth in a brutal, electrifying kiss.

  The urge to keep going when he felt her hands on his chest was so overwhelming that Daniel pulled back with effort, breathing harshly. He
meant nothing to this woman. He’d been a pawn. She would never have contacted him again if not for the child growing in her belly. His seed. Daniel felt so conflicted and tortured right then that he all but pushed her away from him, making her stumble a little.

  He stepped back and felt like he was falling. He couldn’t stay here when his emotions were so high. He had to get away.

  ‘If the baby is mine then I will be back but I will not make this easy for you.’

  He backed away again and Analia felt a wild surge of grief within her. Her lips burned after that angry kiss. Her skin was hot. She wanted him. She loved him. The knowledge was immediate and incinerated any doubts she might have had over the past few tumultuous weeks that it could have happened so fast.

  He turned to leave and a sob rose up in her throat. ‘Wait,’ she got out painfully.

  He stopped at the door but didn’t turn around. He couldn’t leave like this. She had to let him know. Her voice felt raw. ‘It wasn’t a rash mistake for me. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you I wouldn’t regret that night. I’m glad you’re my baby’s father. That night only happened because I met you...I never believed I could have what I wanted, until I met you. I never wanted it, believing it was selfish. Walking away from you tore me apart.’

  Her voice grew thick with emotion. ‘I didn’t want to walk away. I had no choice. For my whole life my wants and desires have come second to my responsibilities. The thought of being married and seeing you again...was nearly more than I could bear...when I found out I was pregnant, I was happy...and relieved. It meant I could find you...but I was scared too, that you wouldn’t care, that that night had meant nothing to you.’

  Please turn around, Analia begged silently, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. But after a long weighty silence, Daniel just turned the knob on the door, opened it and left. The sob Analia had been holding back emerged. She clapped a hand to her mouth as if that could contain the pain of her heart shattering into a million pieces.