His Pregnant Princess Bride. Catherine Mann

a royal, so different than the girl who had let her hair run wild over their weekend together.

      And what a weekend it’d been. Months had passed since then and he still thought about her. About the way she’d tasted on his tongue.

      He had to say something worthy of that. Of her. He collected his thoughts, determined to say the perfect thing.

      Despite all of that, only one word fell out of his mouth.

      “Pregnant.” So much for a grand speech.

      Her face flashed with a hint of disappointment. Of course, she had every right to expect more from him. But more silence escaped his lips, and the air was filled not with sounds of him speaking, but with the buzz of waves and boats.

      The trace of frustration and disappointment had left her face. She looked every bit a Viking queen. Impassive. Strong. Icy. And still so damn sexy in her soft feminine clothes and that bold leather bracelet.

      “Yes, and I am absolutely certain the child is yours.”

      “I didn’t question you.”

      “I wanted to be clear. Although in these days of DNA tests, it is not a subject that one can lie about.” She frowned. “Do you need time to think, for us to talk more later? You look pale.”

      Did he? Hell, he did feel as if he’d been broadsided by a three-hundred-pound linebacker, but back in his ballplaying days he’d been much faster at recovery. And the stakes here were far higher. He needed to tread carefully. “A child is always cause for celebration.” He took her hand in his, as close as he could let himself get until he had answers, no matter how tempted he was for more. “I’m just surprised. We were careful.”

      “Not careful enough, apparently. You, um, did stretch the condom, and perhaps there was a leak.”

      He choked on a cough. “Um, uh...I don’t know what to say to that.”

      “It was not a compliment, you Cro-Magnon.” She shook her hand free from his. “Simply an observation.”

      “Fair enough. Okay, so you’re pregnant with my baby. When do you want to head to the courthouse to get married?”

      “Are you joking? I did not come to the United States expecting a proposal of marriage.”

      “Well, that is what I am offering. Would you prefer I do this in a more ceremonial way? Fine.” He slid from his chair and dropped to one knee on the flagstone patio. “Marry me and let’s bring up this child together.”

      Her eyes went wide with shock and she shot to her feet. Looking around her as if to make sure no one overheard. “Get up. You look silly.”

      “Silly?”

      For the first time since he’d met her, she appeared truly flustered. She edged farther away, sweeping back her loose hair with nervous hands. “Perhaps I chose the wrong word. You look...not like you. And this is not what I want.”

      “What do you want?”

      “I am simply here to notify you about your child and discuss if you wish to be a part of the baby’s life before I move forward with my life.”

      “Damn straight I want to bring up my child.”

      “Shared custody.”

      He reached to capture her restless hands and hold them firmly in his. “You are not hearing me. I want to raise my child.”

      “Our child.”

      “Of course.” He caressed the insides of her wrists with his thumbs. “Let’s declare peace so we can make our way through this conversation amicably.”

      Her shoulders relaxed and he guided her to a bench closer to the half wall at the end of the patio. They sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder.

      She nodded. “I want peace, very much. That’s why I came to you now, early on, rather than just calling or waiting longer.”

      “And I am glad you did.” He slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder, cupping the warmth of her, aching for more. “My brother Dempsey grew up thinking our father didn’t want him and it scarred him. I refuse to let that happen to my child. My baby will know he or she is wanted.”

      “Of course our child will be brought up knowing both parents love and want him or her.”

      “Yes, and you still haven’t answered my question.”

      “What question?”

      “The silly question that comes with a guy getting down on one knee. Will you marry me?”