One Night Heir

So, it surprised her when he hesitated now. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Did he think she wanted to spend less time with him with marriage in the offing? She wasn’t going to pretend sexual innocence for the tabloids once their relationship went public. Though she appreciated the fact he’d kept it under wraps thus far, at some point in the very near future, everyone would know about them.

And she did not mind, but she would not pretend, either.

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“We need to talk.”

“After.” Suddenly she knew she wanted words of love spoken between them, even if they only came from her before he proposed.

She would tell him while they made love. He could propose after.

Yearning she would not think of denying darkened his espresso gaze. “You are certain this is a good idea?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t sure where the need came from, but she could not bear the thought of agreeing to marry him without admitting her feelings for him.

If only with her body, then so be it, but she would express her love for him tonight and she had hope the words would make it past her lips as well.

Need did not make those three small words any easier to say. She could no more simply blurt them out than she could dance naked on a table at Chez Rennet.

While her grandparents had told Gillian they loved her and accepted the words in return, it wasn’t daily like her nana claimed her papa did with her. And Gillian had only ever said the words to her own parents when she was younger.

Neither had ever returned them and she could not remember the last time she’d had the courage to speak her love for the absentee adults in her life. She’d never spoken them to another man, but then she’d never been in love before, either. Her heart wasn’t so easy to reach.

With Maks, she had the option of showing him physically what she felt so strongly emotionally. He would know she loved him at the end of this night. One way or another.

He shook his head. “You are a very different sort of woman, aren’t you?”

She didn’t think so, but she liked the way he looked at her like she was something special, so she didn’t deny it. And really, wasn’t he supposed to think she was extraordinary? Their future would be rather grim if she was just like any other woman to him.

She certainly considered Maks a man above all others.

Maks took her hand and tugged her toward the hall that led to her bedroom. “Come. I have a mind to make love to you in comfort.”

They’d been intimate in the living room many times, but she didn’t mind him considering this time important and special. Maybe he found the words just as difficult to speak, but this was his way of showing how much he cared, too.

Regardless of his reasoning, her heart beat a rapid rhythm as she let him lead her into the darkened bedroom. Maks dropped her hand before crossing to the small table and turning on the lamp. Made of bronze and fashioned like a statue, the clump of three calla lilies had bulbs in each of the glass flowers that cast a soft golden glow over the room.

He’d given her the painting of a blonde woman standing with her head bowed in a field of the same blooms hanging on the wall above it. Maks had said it reminded him of her.

She thought the painting far too ethereal to have her likeness, but she loved it.

He turned to face her now, his chiseled features set in somber lines. “You give me a great gift.” He sighed, releasing some great burden. “I needed this.”

She smiled, her emotions choking her but still not rising to her lips to say aloud.

He seemed to understand because he came back to her and pulled her into a passionate kiss that let them both get lost for a little while. They were breathing heavily when their mouths separated and she was wrapped securely in his arms.

“You are a very good kisser.”

“Or you are,” he teased, more like his normal self.

“You’re the one with all the experience.” She hadn’t been a virgin when they met, but she might as well have been for all her experience.

Two different fumbling attempts during her university days at intimacy that ended in dismal failure and none of the pleasure she found in his arms had left her with no real practical experience at pleasing a partner.

Maks had never minded and had always been extremely patient and happy even to teach her the joys of two bodies coming together when real attraction existed on both sides.

“We are good together like this.” He sounded almost sad about that.

But he had nothing to be sad about, so she had to be misreading that tone in his voice. Or was he one of those men who believed that marriage meant sex went by the wayside?

She’d show him otherwise if he was.

She was a twenty-first-century woman who believed that not only were women supposed to enjoy sex, but that it belonged very firmly and frequently in the marriage bed.

She didn’t say any of that, but concentrated on divesting him of his suit. He helped by toeing off his shoes and socks and yanking his dress shirt over his head once his tie had been loosened and the top few buttons undone.

“Eager, aren’t you?” she teased.

“You have no idea.” He nearly ripped her dress getting it off, her bra and panties disappearing with none of his usual finesse or time spent on visual appreciation for her preference for matching lace.

They were naked moments later. He looked at her then, his brown eyes eating her up with hot hunger.

She could feel her body’s response to that look, her nipples tightening even more than they already were, her inner walls contracting with the need to be filled by his hard sex.

Heat suffused her from her toes all the way up her limbs, sending a blush of desire over her cheeks and shivers of emotionally laced physical need quaking through her.

They’d barely touched and she wanted sex with this man in this moment more than she’d ever wanted anything or another man, Maks included. Knowing this intimacy was the prelude of a lifetime together increased her passion in ways she would never have expected.

The expression in his eyes said he was similarly affected. Maks looked desperate with his need to be with her.

Without thought, she stepped into his arms and it felt so right when he lifted her like a bride and carried her to the bed. He managed to yank back the covers and top sheet without dropping her.

She helped by wrapping her arms around his neck. Not so helpful were the small, exploratory kisses she placed along his jaw and down his neck. She stopped to inhale where his neck met his shoulder.

The subtle fragrance of his Armani cologne mixed with his own masculine scent triggering a reflexive response in Gillian’s core that she could not stop, even if she had wanted to. And she didn’t.

She loved the feel of her body preparing itself for his possession, reveled in the reaction that was primal and visceral to things like his smell and as simple a touch as his hand brushing down her hip as he laid her on the mattress.

“You are all that I want,” he whispered in her ear. “If only…”

She didn’t know if only what. In that moment, could not begin to care. His hands were moving over her, bringing her pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known.

Even at his touch.

There was such profundity in that moment, she did not see how their wedding night could possibly be any better or more special.

She touched him, too, mapping his body with her hands, loving the feel of his muscles, the tickle of his chest hair against her fingertips.

This amazing man, who was literally a prince and business tycoon rolled into one, belonged to her and as difficult as she might find that to believe, the proof was in her position. Naked, in bed with him, free to caress his masculine body as she liked.

“You and Demyan keep yourselves in amazing shape,” she opined happily.

Maks’s face twisted at the mention of his cousin’s name. Another time she would have asked about that, but not tonight.

What they were doing was too important. What she was doing was life-altering, especially if she could force those three all-important words out of her voice box.

“Our sparring was rough today,” Maks said, as if he realized she might wonder at his reaction.

She brushed her fingertip over a bruise she’d just noticed. “It looks like it.”

“That is nothing,” Maks said with his typical arrogance and pride that would never admit Demyan may have gotten the better of him in the sparring ring.

His cousin was hard to get to know, but the older man and Maks were close. She liked knowing he had a friend he could trust. Maks didn’t live in a world where trust or even trustworthiness came in great supply. Gillian understood that world; she’d been on the edges of it because of her father for her whole life.

She leaned forward and kissed the discolored skin, then the area all around it.

Maks groaned. “I like.”

She knew he did. He loved being pampered, even in bed. He gave as good as he got, though, so she never minded giving either.

He rolled her onto her back and came over her, his big body covering hers both sensually and protectively. Maks looked down into her eyes, his own dark with emotion. “You are so perfect for me. Too perfect.”

She just shook her head. Didn’t he know there could be no too much about it?

He kissed her like he didn’t want to discuss it. Like he couldn’t bear not kissing her one more second. Like she belonged to him wholly and completely.

She kissed him back with her heart on her lips, because she did.

He pressed her into the mattress, the kiss going on and on and on, increasing intensity with every passing minute until the fire blazing between them was plasma hot.

All thought and feeling outside the pleasure their bodies brought to one another disintegrated in its path.

Wanting him inside her, now, Gillian spread her legs in invitation.

Instead of accepting, Maks moved back, breaking the kiss. “Not yet.”

“Yes,” she demanded.

But he shook his head, the expression in his eyes both feral and intense. He began to touch her again, this time with the clear and express purpose of driving her insane with delight.

He found the spot on her foot that made her shiver with need and the area of her inner thigh that made her ache to be filled. He caressed the curve of her waist and moved up to give careful attention to her breasts, licking and laving, kneading and playing until her nipples hurt with the need to be touched, too.

Only then did he put his mouth over one engorged tip and bite lightly.

She cried out, a mini orgasm going off inside her.

He let out a dark chuckle and sucked her nipple while her body writhed under him of its own volition. He pinched her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger before brushing it featherlightly with his thumb. He did this over and over again as she moaned for more.

She was begging with her body and a few inarticulate “Pleases” by the time he pressed her thighs wide and surged inside her without a condom for the first time.

The thought they could be making a child increased her ecstasy to the point that her entire body convulsed with climax on his first initial thrust.

He didn’t slow down and she didn’t ask him to. He kept surging in and out of her, building pleasure that never actually slipped into lassitude until she came for the second time, her contractions so harsh, the rigidity of her body thrust him upward.

He never lost his position inside her, though, and shouted with pure male triumph when he came.

He looked down at her, his expression so intent, it sent aftershocks quivering through her. “Thank you.”

She shook her head, no words coming out. Not even the three she wanted so badly to say, but then maybe they weren’t necessary. After that, he had to know how she felt. She had no doubts about his feelings for her. A man could not make love to a woman with that level of passion and feel none of the finer emotions.

“I should have asked. About the condom.”

“No. It’s all right.” They didn’t need barriers between them.

He nodded, his expression somber as he moved to lie beside her. “I would like to spend the night. May I?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t sure why he felt the need to ask, but then maybe it was that kind of moment.

So much, it deserved proper consideration.

Gillian woke wrapped in Maks’s strong arms. She could tell by his breathing that he was already awake.

Suddenly the words that had been impossible to utter were on the tip of her tongue. She sat up and looked at him in the morning light diffused by her bedroom curtains. “I love you, Maks.”

How easy had that been? The words had practically said themselves, but she found she wasn’t comfortable maintaining eye contact. Particularly when his were showing evidence of shock at her announcement.

How could he not have known? How could her words possibly come as a surprise to him after everything? Or was it her timing?

She’d never uttered those words to another man, didn’t know if there were protocols in Maks’s world that dictated they get said after morning greetings.

That sounded ridiculous, but it wouldn’t be the first aspect to the life of a royal that she found so. It was a good thing she did love him, or she’d never consider spending her life in that kind of weirdly orchestrated fishbowl.

She tucked back down into bed, snuggling against him. “I could get used to this.”

“It is too bad we cannot.”

She heard the words, but they didn’t make sense, so they didn’t register.

Her mind was still on the night before and how unburdened she felt after making her confession this morning. Even if it had been awkwardly done.

At least he hadn’t laughed at her.

That was one of the nice things about Maks. He never mocked another person’s lack of aplomb, even though he never seemed short of suaveness.

“Last night was amazing,” she offered.

“Yes.” His tone was so serious and almost unhappy.

She didn’t understand why.

Maybe he was tired. He had been very energetic throughout the night. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she’d survive if every night was as passionate as the one before, wonderful as it had been.

They hadn’t gone to sleep after the first time making love, but had come together three more times throughout the night. Maks had never been so insatiable. She’d never felt such freedom to respond.

He’d been voracious, both for touching her and being inside of her. And she’d loved every second of it.

Her body twinged delightfully at the reminders of how hungry he had been.

“I am sorry.” If anything, Maks’s tone had grown heavier.

As much as she’d prefer to pretend she didn’t know why he’d apologized, she could not.

But she could tell him that it didn’t matter. She didn’t need Maks to admit love for her so long as he needed her like he’d shown he did the night before.

“It’s all right.” Gingerly, keeping a lid on her own disappointment, Gillian sat up and met Maks’s gaze.

His expression was stoic, like a man trying to pretend something didn’t bother him. “No. Last night was a mistake, I think.”

Then he winced as if he realized he should not have said that.

And well he might wince, the idiot. She wasn’t going to demand words of love, but downplaying the night before wasn’t going to fly with her, either.

Suddenly she had a thought that might explain his odd attitude. “You want to pretend we don’t have sex?”

And did that bother him as much as she thought it did? As much as it absolutely appalled her?

“As wonderful as we are together, it will not be a pretense. It cannot. It would not be fair to you, or to me, if I am honest.”

Her brows drew together. “I don’t understand. You want to stop having sex?”

Until they were married? A royal wedding required at least a year, often two to prepare for. No wonder he’d been so hungry the night before.

But why forego condoms? Did he hope to have gotten her pregnant so they were forced to marry more quickly?

That just didn’t seem like something Maks would do. He was not a master of passive aggressive. Full-on aggression was more his style.

“Continuing to have sex together will only make our eventual breakup all the harder, not to mention increasing the chances of the media picking up on our relationship. We’ve been lucky so far, they’ve left us alone.”

Gillian thought that had something to do with her father’s influence as much as how circumspect she and Maks had been. But that wasn’t the most important thing right now.

“Break up?” she asked, completely at a loss. “Why would we break up?”

They were getting married. Weren’t they? A cold spike of dread pierced her heart. Weren’t they?

His expression was not hope producing. “A breakup between us is inevitable. Surely you understand this.”

CHAPTER THREE

“NO. PRETEND MY IQ is in the low digits and explain it to me.” Gillian’s throat felt tight, the words hard to get out.

“I cannot marry a woman incapable of providing heirs to the throne. It’s draconian, I know, but nevertheless, it is the way things must be.”

“I can’t provide heirs to the throne?” she asked, still very confused, but with a growing sense of apprehension that was making her current circumstances—naked and in bed with him—increasingly uncomfortable.

He frowned, sitting up, seemingly unconcerned by his nudity as he made no effort to cover himself. “You said you’d read the results of your physical.”

“I said I’d received it. I had.”

“I saw the envelope. It was opened.”

“Nana called before I skimmed the results.”

“One would think on something so important, one might do more than skim.” His speech only grew so formal when he was very annoyed.

What did he have to be angry about?

“I’ve been healthy since my appendicitis at sixteen.”

“The surgery to keep you alive left your fallopian tubes compromised,” Maks said with the air of a man who did not like having to explain himself.

Compromised fallopian tubes? What the heck did that mean?

Unable to stand the false sense of intimacy their situation provided once second longer, she jumped out of the bed. Grabbing her robe, she yanked it on so hard she wouldn’t have been surprised if the sleeve ripped right off.

Gillian stepped back from the bed, putting as much distance as possible between herself and Maks while staying in the same room. “What are you talking about?”

Once again, Maks looked pained. “The likelihood of you getting pregnant is very low.”

“What about fertility treatments?” Or had he not even considered them?

She was defective and therefore not worthy to be his bride. Oh, God. The silent prayer was filled with anguish, but received no heavenly reply.

Last night had not been about hunger or passion. It had been about saying good-bye. Everything she’d taken to mean they belonged together was in fact supposed to indicate the opposite.

“Fertility treatment could be an option for you with someone else,” he said, like he was offering her good news.

“But not you.”

“Marrying you knowing we would have to use them would not be an intelligent or well thought out move on the part of our House.”

“I would not be marrying your House,” she practically shouted.

She wouldn’t be marrying anyone. Pain at that realization nearly took her to her knees.

What all this talk meant was that she was losing Maks.

“That is not true. I am a prince who will one day be king. I was born to a burden of duty none but elected officials in country can begin to understand. And even they live in their roles only temporarily whereas I will never know a day when my small country does not have to come first and foremost in my thinking.”

She knew that. One of the few truly ruling monarchies left in the world, as Crown Prince of Volyarus, Maks’s life was not his own. But his choices were.

“You do not love me.” It was the only thing that really mattered and incidentally made absolute sense of his unwillingness to pursue fertility options.

He liked her, he desired her, he might even be as sad as he appeared at first over breaking up with her, but he did not love her.

“Love is not an emotion I have the freedom or inclination to pursue.”

“Love either is, or is not. You don’t have to pursue it.” She’d learned as a small child, no matter how hard you tried, you could not make someone love you.

No. Love could not be forced. Nor could it be denied. Though she would give up her next visit with her grandparents and any hope of ever seeing either of her biological parents again if she could deny the tidal wave of emotions threatening to drown her now.

“You said you love me. I am sorry.” Genuine regret reflected in the espresso depths of his eyes.

That regret hurt her as much as the words that came with it because the remorse proved their sincerity. Pain was a vise around her heart, radiating through her body in an unexpected and equally undeniable physical reaction to the emotional blow.

She could barely breathe for the agony. It was by sheer will she remained on her feet.

He was sorry.

She wanted to cry, felt like screaming, but she held it all in along with the pain building toward nuclear meltdown.

“Get out.” She spoke quietly, but she knew he heard her.

“You are not thinking rationally.”

“Since our first date, you’ve been very careful to keep us out of the eyes of the media.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t ask, “Why?” Didn’t really care about his reasoning anymore.

She just wanted him gone so she could let the pain out. He didn’t get to see it.

“Do you think me calling the building’s security to have you removed from my apartment would blow all those efforts to hell?”

His eyes widened at her oblique threat. “You’re not going to call security.”

He really didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.

She spun around and pressed the panic button on her bedroom’s security box.

“You have about a minute, maybe two, before they arrive. If you want to be caught here, by all means, stay.” She didn’t turn to face him as she spoke and she didn’t raise her voice, either.

If she did, she’d end up screaming. She just knew it. And Gillian had never screamed a day in her life. She wasn’t going to start now.

Not with him.

Not when the anguish inside her was already so close to imploding and taking her heart with it.

Ukrainian curses sounded along with the brush of clothing being yanked over naked limbs.

He paused at the doorway. She could sense it, though hadn’t turned to watch his departure.

“I am sorry.” Then he was gone.

And she was alone. Unable to stand under the onslaught of emotional agony ripping through her, Gillian sank to the floor.

Every dream she’d nursed in the past months shattered, every hope she’d let herself entertain despite her past and present life that in no way matched his for brilliance ripped violently from her still bleeding heart.

Nine weeks later, dazed and disbelieving, Gillian sat on the park bench outside her doctor’s offices.

Utterly shattered by the news she’d received, she could do little more than stare at the tall buildings surrounding the small patch of nature.

Her doctor’s words seemed impossible. “You’re pregnant.”

It was terribly improbable. And yet it was true.

She was pregnant. Exactly nine weeks along.

One night of unprotected sex with a man intent on evicting her from his life and they’d made a baby.