Princess's Pregnancy Secret

‘You have the chance to experience this...’ he waved at the ballroom full of beautiful people ‘...yet you’re hanging back in the shadows.’

He voiced her fantasy—reminding her of her stupid, crazy plan. She’d arranged for a large selection of costumes to be delivered to the nurses’ quarters at the hospital for tonight’s masquerade. No one would know that one dress, one wig, and one mask were missing from that order. All done so she, cloistered, protected, precious Princess Eleni, could steal one night as an anonymous girl able to talk to people not as a princess, but as a nobody.

She could be no one.

And yet, when it had come to it, she’d swiftly realised her error. She’d watched those guests arrive. Clustered together, laughing squads of friends—the kind she’d never had. How could she walk into that room and start talking to any of them without her title as her armour? What had she to offer? How could she blend in when she hadn’t any clue what to discuss other than superficial niceties? She’d ached with isolation, inwardly mocking her own self-piteous hurt, as she’d uselessly stared at all those other carefree, relaxed people having fun.

Privileged Princess Eleni had burned with jealousy.

Now she burned with something else, something just as shameful.

‘I’m biding my time,’ she prevaricated with a chuckle, drawing on years of practising polite conversation to cover her shaken, unruly emotions.

‘You’re wasting it.’

His bluntness shocked that smile from her lips. She met his narrowed gaze and knew he saw too much.

‘You want a night out, you need to get out there and start circulating,’ he advised.

Her customary serene demeanour snapped at his tone. ‘Maybe that’s not what I want.’

The atmosphere pulsed between them like an electrical charge faulting.

Heat suffused every inch of her skin. Now she truly was unable to hold his gaze. But as she looked down he reached out. The merest touch of fingers to her chin, nudging so she looked him in the eye again. She fought to quell the uncontrollable shiver that the simple touch generated.

‘No?’ Somehow he was even closer as he quietly pressed her. ‘Then what do you want?’

That she couldn’t answer. Not to herself. Not now. But he could see it anyway.

‘Walk with me through the ballroom,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I dare you.’

His challenge roused a rare surge of rebellion within her. She who always did as she was bid—loyal, dutiful, serene. Princess Eleni never caused trouble. But he stirred trouble. Her spirit lifted; she was determined to show strength before him.

‘I don’t need you to dare me,’ she breathed.

‘Don’t you?’ He called her bluff.

Silent, she registered the gauntlet in his hard gaze. The glow of those blue eyes ignited her to mutinous action. She turned and strode to the edge of the alcove. Nerves thrummed, chilling her. What if she was recognised?

But this man hadn’t recognised her and she knew her brother would be busy in the farthest corner of the room meeting select guests at this early stage in the evening. Everyone was preoccupied with their own friends and acquaintances. She might just get away with this after all.

‘Coming?’ She looked back and asked him, refusing—yet failing—to flush.

He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow, saying nothing, but everything, with a sardonic look. The rock-hard heat of his biceps seeped through the fine material of his tailored suit and her fingers curled around it instinctively. He pressed his arm close to his side, trapping her hand.

He walked slowly, deliberately, the length of the colonnades. To her intense relief, he didn’t stop to speak to anyone, instead he kept his attention on her, his gaze melting that cold block of nervousness lodged in her diaphragm.

It turned out she’d been wrong to worry about recognition. Because while people were looking, it was not at her.

‘All these women are watching you,’ she murmured as they drew near the final column. ‘And they look surprised.’

A smile curled his sensual lips. ‘I haven’t been seen dating recently.’

‘They think I’m your date?’ she asked. ‘Am I supposed to feel flattered?’

His laughter was low and appreciative. ‘Don’t deny it, you do.’

She pressed her lips together, refusing to smile. But the sound of his laugh wasn’t just infectious, it seemed to reach right inside her and chase all that cold away with its warmth.

‘There.’ He drew her into the last alcove, a mirror of the first, and she was appallingly relieved to discover it too was empty at this early hour.

‘Was that so awful?’ he asked, not relinquishing her hand but walking with her to the very depths of the respite room and turning to face her.

Inwardly she was claiming it as a bittersweet victory. A date at last.

‘Who are you?’ She felt foolish that she didn’t know when it was clear many others did. ‘Why do they look at you?’

He cocked his head, his amusement gleaming. ‘Why do you look at me?’

Eleni refused to answer. She was not going to pander to his already outsize ego.

His lazy smile widened. ‘What do you see?’

That one she could answer. She smiled, relishing her release from ‘polite princess response’.

‘I see arrogance,’ she answered boldly. ‘A man who defies convention and doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks.’

‘Because?’

She angled her head, mirroring his inquiring look. ‘You don’t wear a mask. You don’t make the effort that’s expected of everyone else.’

‘And I don’t do that—because why?’ His attention narrowed—laser-like in its focus on her.

‘Because you don’t need to,’ she guessed, seeing the appreciation flicker in his eyes. ‘You don’t want their approval. You’re determined to show you don’t need anything from them.’

His expression shuttered, but he didn’t deny her assessment of him. Her heart quickened as he stepped closer.

‘Do you know what I see?’ Almost angrily he pointed to the mask covering most of her face. ‘I see someone hiding more than just her features. I see a woman who wants more than what she thinks she should have.’

She stilled, bereft—of speech, of spirit. Because she did want more and yet she knew she was so spoilt and selfish to do so. She had everything, didn’t she?

‘So what happens at midnight?’ That tantalising smile quirked his lips, drawing her attention to the sensuality that was such a potent force within him.

She struggled to remind herself she was no Cinderella. She was already the Princess, after all. ‘Exactly what you think it will.’

‘You’ll leave and I’ll never see you again.’

His words struck deep inside her—sinking like stones of regret.

‘Precisely,’ she replied with her perfectly practised princess politeness.

She shouldn’t feel the slightest disappointment. This was merely a fleeting conversation in the shadows. Five minutes of dalliance that she could reminisce over a whole lot later. Like for the rest of her life.

‘I don’t believe in fairy tales,’ he said roughly, his smile lost.

‘Nor do I,’ she whispered. She believed in duty. In family. In doing what was right. Which was why she was going to marry a man she didn’t love and who didn’t love her. Romance was for fairy tales and other people.

‘You sure about that?’ He edged closer still, solemn and intense. ‘Then flip it. Don’t do the expected. Don’t disappear at midnight.’ He dared her with that compelling whisper. ‘Stay and do what you want. You have the mask to protect you. Take what you want.’

She stared up at him. He was roguishly handsome and he was only playing with her, wasn’t he? But that was...okay. Intense temptation and a totally foreign sensation rippled through her. The trickle soon turned into a tsunami. From the deepest core of her soul, slipping along her veins to ignite every inch of her body.

Want.

Pure and undeniable.

Couldn’t she have just a very little moment for herself? Couldn’t she have just a very little of him?

He couldn’t hide his deepening tension. It was in his eyes, in the single twitch of the muscle in his jaw as the curve of his smile flatlined. That infinitesimal edge sharpened. But he remained as motionless as the marble column behind him, hiding the ballroom from her view. Waiting, watching.

Take what you want.

That dare echoed in her mind, fuelling her desire.

She gazed into his eyes, losing herself in the molten steel. She parted her lips the merest fraction to draw in a desperate breath. But he moved the moment she did. Full predator—fast, powerful, inescapable—he pressed his mouth to meet hers.

Instinctively she closed her eyes, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his warm lips teasing hers. Her breath caught as he stepped closer, his hands spanning her waist to draw her against him. She quivered on impact as she felt his hard strength, finally appreciating the sheer size of the man. Tall, strong, he radiated pure masculinity.

He took complete control, his tongue sliding along her lips, slipping past to stroke her. Never had she been kissed like this. Never had she kissed like this, but his commanding passion eviscerated any insecurity—and all thought. Lost to the sensation she simply leaned closer, letting him support her, pressing her into his iron heat.

Heavy, addictive power flowed from him to her as he kissed the very soul of her. His arms were like bars, drawing her against the solid expanse of his chest. A moan rose in the back of her throat and he tightened his hold more. She quivered at his defined strength—not just physical. It took mental strength to build a body like his, she knew that too.

Her legs weakened even as a curious energy surged through her. She needed him closer still. But his hand lifted to cup her jaw and he teased—pressing maddeningly light kisses on her lips instead of that explosive, carnal kiss of before. She moaned, in delight, in frustration.

At that raw, unbidden response, he gave her what she wanted. Uncontrolled passion. She clutched at him wildly as her knees gave out—swept away on a torrent of need that had somehow been unleashed. She didn’t know how to assuage it, how to combat it. All she could do was cling—wordlessly, mindlessly begging for more. The intensity of his desire mirrored her own—she felt him brace, felt the burning of his skin beneath her fingertips as she touched his jaw, copying his delightful touch.

But now his hand stroked lower, pressing against her thigh. Breathless she slipped deeper, blindly seeking more. But she felt his hesitation. She gasped as he broke the kiss to look at her. Unthinking she arched closer, seeking to regain contact. But in the distance she heard a roaring. A clinking of—

Glasses. Guests.

Good grief, what was she doing?

Far too late those years of training, duty and responsibility kicked in. How could she have forgotten who and where she was? She could not throw everything away for one moment of lust.

But this lust was all-consuming. All she wanted was for him to touch her again—decisively, intimately, now.

Brutal shame burned from her bones to her skin. She had to get alone and under control. But as she twisted from his hold a long tearing sound shredded the unnatural silence between them. Time slowed as realisation seeped into her fried brain.

That too tight, too thin strap over her shoulder had ripped clear from the fabric it had been straining to support. And the result?

She didn’t need to look to know; she could feel the exposure—the cooler air on her skin. Aghast, she sent him a panicked glance. Had he noticed?

Of course he’d noticed.

She froze, transfixed, as his gaze rested for a second longer on her bared breast before flicking back to her face. The fiery hunger in his eyes consumed her. She was alight with colour and heat, but it wasn’t embarrassment.

Oh, heavens, no.

She tugged up the front of her dress and turned, blindly seeking escape.

But he drew her close again, bracketing her into the protective stance of his body. He walked, pressing her forward away from the crowd she’d foolishly forgotten was present. And she was so confused she just let him. Through a discreet archway, down a wide corridor to space and silence. He walked with her, until a door closed behind them.

The turn of the lock echoed loudly. Startled, she turned to see him jerkily stripping out of his dinner jacket with barely leashed violence. His white dress shirt strained across his broad shoulders. Somehow he seemed bigger, more aggressive, more sexual.

Appallingly desire flooded again, rooting her to the spot where she clutched her torn dress to her chest. She desperately tried to catch her breath but her body couldn’t cope. Her lips felt full and sensitive and throbbed for the press of his. Her breasts felt tight and heavy and, buried deep within, she was molten hot and aching.

All she could do was stare as he stalked towards her.

All she could think was to surrender.

CHAPTER TWO

‘SLIP THIS AROUND your shoulders and we can leave immediately.’ He held the jacket out to her. ‘No one will...’ He trailed off as she stared at him uncomprehendingly.

He’d only been stripping in order to clothe her? To protect her from prying eyes rather than continue with...with...

Suddenly she was mortified. She’d thought that he’d been going to—

‘No.’ She finally got her voice box to work. ‘No. That’s impossible.’

Nervously she licked her lips. What was impossible was her own reaction. Her own willingness. Horrified, she stepped away from the temptation personified in front of her, backing up until she was almost against the wall on the far side of the room.

He stood still, his jacket gently swinging from his outstretched hand, and watched her move away from him. A slight frown furrowed his forehead. Then he shifted, easing his stance. He casually tossed the jacket onto the antique sofa that now stood between them.

His lips twisted with a smile as rueful as it was seductive. ‘I’m not going to do anything.’

‘I know,’ she said quickly, trying and failing to offer a smile in return.

She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of herself. Her cheeks flamed and she knew a fierce blush had every inch of her skin aglow. Shamed, she clutched the material closer to her chest.

This had been such a mistake. More dangerous than she ever could have imagined. Her breathing quickened again. She was so mortified but so sensitive. She glanced at him again only to have him snare her gaze in his. He was watching her too intently. She realised that his breathing was quickened, like hers, and a faint sheen highlighted his sun-kissed skin.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked softly. ‘I’m sorry.’

But he didn’t look sorry. If anything that smile deepened.

But she also saw the intensity of the heat banked in his expression and something unfurled within her. Something that didn’t help her resistance.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she muttered. ‘It’s a cheap dress and it doesn’t really fit that well.’

‘Let me help you fix it,’ he offered huskily. ‘So you can get out of here.’

‘I can make do.’ She glanced at the locked door behind him. ‘I’d better go.’

She knew there was another exit from the room, but it was locked by the security system. She couldn’t use it without showing him she was intimate with the palace layout. He could never know that. Maybe she could drape the blue and purple hair of her wig over her shoulder to hide that tear.

‘Trust me,’ he invited gruffly. ‘I’ll fix your dress. Won’t do anything else.’

That was the problem. She wanted him to do something. Do everything or anything he wanted. And that was just crazy because she couldn’t set a lifetime of responsibility ablaze now. What made it worse was that he knew—why she’d moved to put not just space, but furniture between them.

‘You can’t get past them all with that strap the way it is now,’ he muttered.

He was right. She couldn’t get away from him either. Not yet.

So she stepped nearer, turning to present her shoulder with the torn strap. ‘Thank you.’

Holding her breath, heart pounding, she fought to remain still as he came within touching distance. The tips of his deft fingers brushed against her burning skin as he tried to tie the loose strap to the torn bodice. She felt it tighten, but then heard his sharp mutter of frustration as the strap loosened again.

She inhaled a jagged breath. ‘Don’t worry—’

‘I’ll get it this time,’ he interrupted. ‘Almost there.’

She waited, paralysed, as he bent to the task again, trying desperately to quell her responsive shiver to the heat of his breath on her skin but he noticed it anyway. His hands stilled for that minuscule moment before working again.

‘There,’ he promised in a lethal whisper. ‘All fixed.’

But he was still there—too close, too tall, too everything. She stood with her eyes tight shut, totally aware of him.

‘You’re good to go.’

Good. She didn’t feel like being good. And she didn’t want to go.

She opened her eyes and saw what she’d already felt with every other sense. He was close enough to kiss.

She shook her head very slightly, not wanting to break this spell. ‘It was a dumb idea. I shouldn’t have come.’

She hadn’t meant to tell him anything more but the secret simply fell from her lips.

‘But you’ve gone to such trouble.’ He traced one of the swirls of glitter she’d painted on her shoulder. His finger roved north, painting another that rose up her neck, near her frantically beating pulse, and rested there.

‘You shouldn’t miss out.’ He didn’t break eye contact as he neared, but he didn’t close the half-inch between their mouths.

She had to miss out. That was her destiny—the rules set before she was even born. Yet his gaze mesmerised, making her want all kinds of impossible things. Beneath those thick lashes the intensity of his truly blue eyes burned through to her core.

‘You’d better get back out there, Blue.’ He suddenly broke the taut silence and dropped his hand. His voice roughened, almost as if he were angry.

‘Why?’ Why should she? When what she wanted was right here? Just one more kiss? Just once? Hot fury speared—the fierce emotion striking all sense from her. ‘Maybe I can...’ she muttered, gazing into his eyes.

‘Can what?’ he challenged, arching an eyebrow. ‘What can you do...?’

She tilted her chin and reached up on tiptoe to brush her lips over his. Sensation shivered through her. This was right. This was it.

He stiffened, then took complete control. He gripped her waist and hauled her close, slamming her body into his. She felt the give of her stupid dress again. She didn’t mind the half-laugh that heated her.

‘You can do that,’ he muttered, a heated tease as he kissed her with those torturous light kisses until she moaned in frustration. ‘You can do that all you like.’

She did like. She liked it a lot.

Kisses. Nothing wrong with kisses. Her bodice fluttered down again, exposing her to him. Thank goodness. His hands took advantage, then his mouth. The drive for more overwhelmed her. Never had she felt so alive. Or so good.

She gasped when he lifted her, but she didn’t resist, didn’t complain. He strode a couple of paces to sit on the sofa, crushing her close then settling her astride his lap.

She shivered in delight as he kissed her again. She could die in these kisses. She met every one, mimicking, learning, becoming braver. Becoming unbearably aroused. Breathless, she lost all sense of time—could only succumb to the sensation as his hand swept down her body, down her legs. Slowly he drew up the hem of her dress. His fingertips stroked up her hot skin until he neared that most private part of her. She shivered and he lifted his head, looking deep into her eyes. She knew he was seeking permission. She wriggled ever so slightly to let him have greater access because this felt too good to stop. Still watching her, he slid his hand higher.

‘Kiss me again,’ she whispered.

Something flared in his eyes. And kiss her he did, but not on her mouth. He bent lower, drawing her nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth while at the same time his fingertips erotically teased over the crotch of her panties.

Eleni gasped and writhed—seeking both respite from the torment, and more of it. No one had touched her so intimately. And, heaven have mercy, she liked it.

She caught a glimpse of the reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. She didn’t recognise the woman with that man bending to her bared breasts. This was one stranger doing deliciously naughty things with another stranger—kissing and rubbing and touching and sliding. Beneath her, his hard length pressed against his suit pants. It fascinated her. The devilish ache to explore him more overtook her. She rocked against his hand, shivering with forbidden delight. She was so close to something, but she was cautious. He pulled back for a second and studied her expression. She clenched her jaw. She didn’t want him to stop.

‘Take what you want,’ he urged softly. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘I...’

‘Anything,’ he muttered. ‘As much or as little as you like.’

Because he wanted this too. She felt the tremble in his fingers and it gave her confidence. Somehow she knew he was as taken aback as she by this conflagration. She might not have the experience, but she had the intuition to understand this was physical passion at its strongest.

Her legs quivered but she let him slide the satin skirt of her dress higher. It glided all the way up to her waist, exposing her almost completely. Her legs were bared, her chest, only her middle was covered in a swathe of blue. She sighed helplessly as that hard ridge of him pressed where she was aching most.

She struggled to unfasten his shirt buttons; she wanted to see his skin. To feel it. He helped her, pulling the halves of his shirt apart. For a moment she just stared. She’d known he was strong, she’d felt that. But the definition of his tense muscles—the pecs, the abs—still took her by surprise. The light scattering of hair added to the perfection. He was the ultimate specimen of masculinity. She raised her gaze, meeting the fire in his, and understood the strength he was holding in check.

‘Touch all you like,’ he muttered, a guttural command.

She liked it all. Suddenly stupidly nervous, she pressed her palm over his chest—feeling the hardness and heat of him. But she could feel the thump of his heart too and somehow that grounded her. She read the desire in his eyes, intuitively understanding how leashed his passion was. That he, like she, wanted it all.

‘Touch me,’ she choked. Her command—and his reply—dislodged the last brick in the wall that had been damming her desire inside. She did not want him to hold back with her.

He caressed her breasts with his hands, teasing her as she rocked on him, rubbing in the way the basic instinct of her body dictated—back and forth and around.

‘So good,’ she muttered, savouring the pressure of his mouth, the sweep of his hands, the hardness of him under her. ‘So good.’

It was so foreign. So delicious. Feverish with desire, she arched. Pleasure beyond imagination engulfed her as faster they moved together. Kisses became ravenous. Hands swept hard over skin. Heat consumed her. She moaned, her head falling back as he touched her in places she’d never been touched. As he brought her sensuality to life.

She heard a tearing sound and realised it had been the crotch of her panties. They’d not survived the strength of his grip. She glanced and saw he’d tossed the remnants of white silk and lace onto the wide seat. Now she could feel his hand touching her again so much more intimately.