Expectant Princess, Unexpected Affair

He just hoped it was true.

Sam stopped in to see his parents that evening to break the news. When he arrived they had just finished supper and were relaxing out on the veranda with snifters of brandy, watching the sun set. Despite his father’s career in politics, and his mother’s touring as an operatic vocalist, they always made time for each other. After forty years they were still happily married and going strong.

That was the sort of marriage Sam had always imagined for himself. He had just never met a woman he could see himself spending the rest of his life with. Until Anne, he admitted grudgingly. How ironic that when he finally found her, he couldn’t have her.

He wasn’t quite sure how they would react to learning that they would be grandparents to the next prince or princess of Thomas Isle, but under the circumstances, they took it pretty well. Probably in part because they had been vying for grandchildren for some time and Sam’s older brother, Adam, had yet to deliver.

“I’m sure I’m going to sound old-fashioned,” his mother said, “but ideally we would like to see you married.”

“Mother—”

“However,” she continued. “We understand that you need to do what you feel is right.”

“If I married Anne, I would be considered a royal and I would never be prime minister. That isn’t a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” Of course, with that in mind, he shouldn’t have slept with her in the first place, should he? He suspected that was what his mother was thinking.

“You would be giving your child a name,” his father pointed out.

“I don’t need to be married to do that. He had my name the moment he was conceived.”

“He?” his mother asked, brows raised.

“Or she.”

“Will you find out?”

“I’d like to. And I think Anne would, too. She has an ultrasound in four weeks.”

“Maybe I could invite her for tea,” she suggested, and at Sam’s wary look added, “I should be allowed to get to know the mother of my future grandchild.”

She was right. And he was sure Anne would be happy to oblige her. Didn’t pregnant women love to talk about their condition with other women? Especially the grandparents? “I’ll mention it to her.”

“You know that this is going to be complicated,” his father said. “They think differently than we do.”

“They?”

“Royals.”

“Not so different as you might expect,” Sam said. “Not Anne, anyway. She’s actually quite down-to-earth.”

“I’ve only spoken briefly with the princess,” his mother said. “But she seemed lovely.”

There was a “however” hanging there, and Sam knew exactly what she was thinking. What they were both thinking. He couldn’t deny he’d thought the same thing before his night with Anne. “I know you’ve probably heard things about her. Unfavorable things. But she isn’t at all what you would expect. She’s intelligent and engaging.” And fantastic in bed …

“It sounds as if you’re quite taken with her,” his mother not-so-subtly hinted.

He was. Probably too much for his own good. He just hoped that once Anne began to look more pregnant, and especially after the baby was born, it would be easier for him to see her only as the mother of his child and not a sexual being.

“I have every hope that Anne and I can be good friends, for the child’s sake, but that is as far as it will ever go.”

He knew they were disappointed. This wasn’t the sort of scenario his parents had envisioned for him, and honestly neither had he. He had assumed that it would have been like it had been for them. He would meet a woman and they would date for a reasonable period of time, then marry and have a family. Sam would eventually become prime minister, and his wife would have a rewarding and lucrative career that still allowed her time to put her family first.

So much for that plan.

“As long as you’re happy, we’re happy,” his mother said.

Sam hoped she really meant it. Even though they gave no indication that Sam was disappointing them, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d let them down. That he had let himself down.

Even worse, was he letting his child down?

What had happened was an accident, but ultimately the person who would pay for it would be the baby. The baby would be the one relentlessly dogged by the press. And being a royal, the stigma of illegitimacy could potentially follow him or her for life. Was it fair to put the baby through that for his own selfish needs?

It was certainly something to consider.

He had just arrived home later that evening when he got a call on his cell phone from Prince Christian’s assistant, with a message from the prince. It was odd enough that she would call at almost 10:00 p.m., but how had the prince gotten his private cell number? The prince’s calls typically went through Sam’s office line.

Silly question. As acting king, he probably had access to any phone number he wanted.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Christian, requests your presence in the royal family’s private room at the Thomas Bay yacht club tomorrow at one-thirty,” she said.

Oh did he? That was an odd setting for a business meeting. Unless it had nothing to do with business. “And the nature of this meeting?” he asked her.

“A private matter.”

Well, so much for believing that this would stay between Sam and Anne. He should have anticipated this. Prince Christian probably considered it his obligation to watch his sister’s back. That didn’t mean Sam would let him intimidate or boss him around.

“Tell the prince that I would be happy to meet him at three.”

There was a brief pause, as though the idea of someone actually refusing an invitation from the prince was beyond her realm of comprehension. Finally she said, “Could you hold, please?”

“Of course.”

She was off the line for several minutes, then came back on and said, “Three will be fine. The prince asks that you please keep this meeting to yourself, as it is a sensitive matter.”

This suggested to Sam that Anne probably had no idea a meeting was being arranged and the prince preferred it to stay that way. He didn’t doubt that the prince would try to persuade him to marry Anne. Truth be told, if Sam had a sister in a similar situation, he might do the same thing.

But this was the twenty-first century and people had children out of wedlock all the time. On occasion, even royalty. Prince Christian’s wife, Princess Melissa of their sister country, Morgan Isle, was an illegitimate heir. In fact, with two illegitimate heirs, and a former king who reputedly lacked the ability or desire to keep his fly zipped, the royal family of Morgan Isle was positively brimming with scandal. By comparison the royal family of Thomas Isle were saints. Would a little scandal be so terrible?

But was it fair to the baby, who had no choice in the matter? Wasn’t it a father’s responsibility to protect his child?

But at what cost?

Sam slept fitfully that night and had trouble concentrating at work the next day. It was almost a relief to leave the office early, even though he doubted his meeting with the prince would be a pleasant exchange.

He arrived five minutes ahead of time, and the prince was already there, sitting in a leather armchair beside a bay of windows that overlooked the marina. He rose to greet Sam.

“Your Highness.” Sam bowed his head then accepted Prince Christian’s hand for a firm shake.

“I’m so glad you accepted my invitation,” he said.

The Prince requests your presence sounded more like an order than an invitation. “I wasn’t aware it was optional.”

“I’m sorry if you were given that impression. I just thought it would be appropriate, in light of the situation, if we had a friendly chat.”

Friendly? Sam doubted that.

The Prince gestured to the chair opposite him. “Please have a seat. Would you like a drink?”

A few too many glasses of champagne had gotten Sam into this mess. Had he been sober, he probably never would have approached the princess, much less danced with her. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

They both sat.

“No disrespect intended, but if the situation you’re referring to somehow involves my being the father of your sister’s child, we have nothing to discuss, Your Highness.”

His blunt statement seemed to surprise the prince. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“I’m afraid I disagree.”

“This is between me and Anne.”

“No one wishes that were the case more than I. Unfortunately, what Anne does affects our entire family. I had hoped you would do the right thing, but I understand that’s not the case.”

“Of course I’ll do the right thing. But I’ll do what I feel is the right thing.”

“And may I ask what your idea of the right thing is?”

“As I said, that is between me and the mother of my child.”

His expression darkened. He obviously didn’t like that Sam wasn’t falling into line. But Sam would be damned if he was going to let the prince, or any member of the royal family, walk all over him.

Prince Christian leaned forward slightly. “I won’t see my sister’s reputation, not to mention that of her child, decimated, because you couldn’t keep out of her knickers.”

What was that phrase the Americans used? It takes two to tango? “If blaming me for this situation makes you sleep better, I can live with that.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“On the contrary, I’m being very reasonable. I’m considering your sister’s privacy.”

“This concerns more people than just you and Anne. You know that our father isn’t well. A scandal like this is more than his heart could take.”

So now not only was Sam decimating reputations, but he was essentially killing the king? “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m still not talking to you.”

“I could make your life unpleasant,” Prince Christian said ominously. “If I feel that you’re disrespecting my sister’s name, I will lash out at you in any way I see fit.”

So much for their friendly chat. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

Sam shrugged. “Knock yourself out, Your Highness. I’m still not discussing my and Anne’s private matters with you.”

For a long moment Prince Christian just stared at him, and Sam braced himself for the fireworks. But instead of exploding with anger, the prince shook his head and laughed. “Christ, Baldwin, you’ve got a pair.”

“I just don’t respond well to threats or ultimatums.”

“And I don’t like giving them. But I have an obligation to look out for my family. The truth is, if it weren’t for my father’s fragile state, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He’s in extremely poor health and it would make him very happy to see his oldest daughter married before she has a child.”

He found what Prince Christian was doing utterly annoying, but in a way Sam actually felt sorry for him. “I’m truly sorry to hear that your father isn’t well. I hold him in the highest regard.”

“And I sympathize with your situation, Sam. I honestly do. It’s common knowledge that you intend to follow in your father’s footsteps and I believe you have the fortitude to pull it off. But marrying my sister would make that impossible. For what it’s worth, you’ve built a reputation as one hell of a foreign affairs advisor. If there were a marriage, you would be offered a powerful and influential position within the monarchy.”

After serving in, and being around, government for most of his life, the idea of taking a position with the monarchy was troubling to say the least. Not that they weren’t on the same side when it came to serving the people of the country. But in Sam’s eyes it had always been something of an “us against them” scenario.

Not to mention that, while he enjoyed foreign affairs, he had set his sights higher.

“Have you given any thought to how difficult it could be for your child, being illegitimate?”

“That’s all I’ve been thinking about.” And the more he thought about it, the more he came to realize that marrying Anne might be the wisest course of action. They may not have planned this pregnancy, but it had happened, and from now on he would have to put the welfare of his child above all else. Including his political ambitions.

“What’s it like?” Sam asked. “Being a father?”

The prince smiled, his affection for his children undeniably clear. “It’s exhilarating and terrifying and more rewarding than anything I’ve ever done. Ever imagined. I have these three perfect little human beings who are completely helpless and depend on me and their mother for everything they need to survive. It can be overwhelming.”

“And if someone gave you a choice? Give up the throne or your children would live a life of disgrace and shame.”

“No question. My children come first.”

As it should be.

“You know that my wife was born out of wedlock,” the prince said.

Sam nodded.

“She didn’t find out that she was a royal until she was in her thirties, but it was still extremely difficult for her. To lay that on a child? As if life as a royal isn’t tough enough already. Kids need stability, and consistency.”

Things that would be much harder to give a child who was being bounced back and forth between two parents, two households, all while being under the microscope of the press.

Sam had grown up in an ideal situation and had always hoped to provide the same for his own children. Didn’t his child deserve that?

He had gone from flirting with the idea of marrying Anne to seriously considering it. And now, after talking to the prince, there seemed to be little question in his mind.

He could give it more thought, mull it around in his head for a while just to be sure, but he knew deep down the decision was already made.

He was going to marry the princess.

Four

Sam’s home was not at all what Anne had expected.

She’d pictured a modern-style mansion or a seaside condo with every amenity a wealthy bachelor could want. Instead, as her driver pulled up the long gravel drive, what she got was a scene straight out of Hansel and Gretel.

Sam lived in a quaint cottage tucked deep in the forest and nestled under a canopy of towering pines and lazy oaks so dense only dappled sunshine dotted its sagging roof. It was quiet, and secluded, and utterly charming. Not to mention a security nightmare.

“Maybe we should have had dinner at the palace,” she told her bodyguard, Gunter, who sat in the front seat beside her driver.

“Is no problem,” he replied in a thick Russian accent. He checked his reflection in the side mirror, running a hand through his blond brush cut. Preening, she thought with a quiet smile. Physically Gunter bore a striking resemblance to Arnold Schwarzenegger in his early Terminator days, with a face that, Anne hated to admit, was far prettier than her own. Women swooned in his presence, never suspecting that a man so ridiculously masculine and tough lived with a cat called Toodles and a life partner named David. He had a killer fashion sense and was more intuitive than most women she knew. In fact, he had guessed that she might be pregnant before anyone in her family had even noticed. She had been in serious denial and Gunter showed up for duty with a pregnancy test.

“Is good you should know, yes?” he’d said, then he’d sat on her bed waiting while she took the test, then listened to her vent after it came back positive.

He was also ex-KGB and could snap a man’s neck like a twig without breaking a sweat.

The car rolled to a stop and Gunter got out to open her door.

“I do sweep,” he said, as he helped her out.

“He’s the father of my child. Is that really necessary?”

Gunter just gave her one of those looks and she knew it wasn’t even worth arguing. She blew out an exasperated breath for good measure and in her best annoyed tone said, “Fine.”

The door to the cottage opened as they started up the walk and there stood Sam, looking too adorable for words, wearing dark blue slacks and a sky-blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He smiled, both dimples showing, and she caught herself hoping that the baby looked just like him.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Gunter’s brows lift, almost imperceptibly, and she could swear she heard him say, Nice, under his breath.

Up until that instant she had only been a little nervous about seeing Sam, but suddenly her heart was going berserk in her chest and her hands were trembling.

“Hi,” she said as she stepped up to the tiny, covered porch complete with a rickety rocking chair and a terra-cotta pot overflowing with yellow and purple petunias.

Sam leaned casually in the doorway, the sweet smile not budging an inch, taking in her taupe cotton skirt and yellow silk sleeveless blouse. It was the most cheerful outfit she could dredge up that still fit. Only lately had she realized just how dark and dreary her wardrobe had become over the past few years. She swore that when she got around to buying maternity clothes they would be in only bright and cheerful colors. She was turning over a new leaf so she could be someone her baby would respect and be proud of. The way she respected her own mother.

Sam’s eyes traveled very unplatonically down her body then back up again, clearly liking what they saw. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look nice, too.” Talk about swooning. Being close to him did funny things to her head. Neurons misfired and wires crossed, creating total and utter chaos.

You’re only here to talk about the baby, she reminded herself, not to indulge your ridiculous crush.

Beside her Gunter softly cleared his throat. Right. The sweep.

“Would you mind terribly if Gunter did a quick security check of the house?” Anne asked Sam.

It was the kind of request that might insult some people, but Sam just shrugged, gestured inside and said, “Have at it, Gunter.”

Gunter pinned her with a look that said, Don’t move, but she knew the drill.

“Wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley,” Sam said, after he disappeared inside. “Gunter. German, right?”

“On his mother’s side, but he was raised in Moscow.” Anne peered past him into the cottage. It was just as quaint and old-fashioned as the exterior, with older but comfortable-looking furniture and more knickknacks that even Gunter would deem appropriate for a man. And it smelled a little like … old people.

“Your house is lovely,” she said. “Not at all what I expected.”

“Needless to say, I’m exceedingly secure in my masculinity.”

“I guess so.”

He laughed. “I’m sorry but no man is that secure. The truth is, it’s my grandmother’s place.”

Which explained the geriatric bouquet. “You live with her?”

“Only in spirit. She passed away three years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just staying here temporarily. While my place is being worked on.”

“You’re remodeling?”

“You could say that, although not by choice. I’ve had a leak in the roof for a while, but when my bedroom and kitchen ceilings started to droop, I decided it was time to finally do something about it. But then I figured, since I would be gone anyway, it only made sense to update the kitchen while I was at it. So, three days’ worth of work turned into more like three weeks.” He gestured inside. “Can I give you the tour?”

“I can’t, not until I get the all clear.”

“Right,” he said. “Just in case I have an assassin hiding under the davenport.”

“I know, it’s ridiculous.”

His expression turned serious. “Not at all,” he said, then he reached out and placed a hand over her baby bump. The gesture was so surprising, so unexpected, that her knees went weak. His eyes locked on hers, clear and intense, and his mouth was close. Too close. “Not if it keeps you and Sam Junior safe.”

Hadn’t they agreed that it would be prudent to keep a safe physical distance? That when they got too close they—Wait, what did he say? “Sam who?”

He grinned and gave her belly a gentle pat before he moved his hand away. “Sam Junior.”

“So you think it’s a boy?”

“That’s the beauty of it. It works for a boy or a girl. Samuel or Samantha. Either way we call it Sam.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “It would seem you have it all figured out.”

He pinned his eyes on her, his gaze so intense she swore she could feel it straight through to her bones. “I’m a man who knows what he wants, Your Highness.”

His eyes said he wanted her, but she knew he was probably only teasing. But if Gunter hadn’t reappeared at that very second, she might have melted into a puddle on the doorstep.

“Is all clear,” Gunter said, stepping onto the porch and gesturing her in. As Sam closed the door, Anne knew that Gunter would stand on the porch, in a military stance, unmoving until it was time to leave.

“Ready for that tour?” Sam asked and she nodded. Although, honestly, there really wasn’t that much to see. The front room had just enough space for a couch, glider and a rickety television stand with a TV that was probably older than her. The kitchen was small but functional, with appliances that dated back to the dark ages. But if the flame under the pot on the stove, and the hum of refrigerator, were any indication, they were both still working. The loo was also tiny, with an antique sink and commode and an antique claw-foot tub.

Next he took her into the bedrooms. The smaller of the two was being used as an office and the larger was where Sam slept. As they stood in the doorway, Anne couldn’t help thinking that the last time they had been in a bedroom together they had both been out of their brains with lust for each other. It seemed like so long ago, yet she recalled every instant, every detail in Technicolor clarity.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess,” he said.

The bed was mussed and there were clothes piled over a chair in the corner. The entire house had something of a cluttered but cozy feel. And though the entire square footage was less that her sleeping chamber at the castle, she felt instantly at home there.

“I was under the impression your family had money,” she said, feeling like a snob the instant the words were out. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“That’s okay,” he said with a good-natured smile. “The money came from my grandfather’s side. My grandmother grew up here. After her parents died, she and my grandfather would spend weekends here. After my grandfather died, she moved back permanently and stayed until she died.”

“I can see why she moved back,” she told him as they walked back to the kitchen. “It’s really lovely.”

“It’s not exactly the castle.”

“No, but it has loads of charm.”

“And no space.”

She shrugged. “It’s cozy.”

“And it desperately needs to be updated. Did you see that tub?”

She gazed around. “No, I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

He looked at her funny. “You’re serious.”

She smiled and nodded. She really liked it. “It’s so. peaceful. The minute I walked in I felt completely at home.” She could even picture herself spending time here, curled up on the couch reading a book or taking long walks through the woods. Although, until the Gingerbread Man was caught, that would never be allowed.

“I’m glad,” he said, flashing her the sexy grin that made her knees go weak. “Would you like something to drink? I have soda and juice.”

“Just water, please.”

He got a bottle from the fridge and poured it into a glass with a wedge of lime. As he handed it to her, their fingertips touched.

“Something smells delicious,” she said.

“Chicken soup. My grandmother’s recipe.”

Not your typical summer food, but that was okay. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He grinned and wiggled his brows. “I am a man of many talents, Your Highness.”

Oh, did she know it. Although under the circumstances many of those talents were best not contemplated. “What else can you make?”