The Secret That Shocked De Santis. Natalie Anderson

‘I cannot stay here.’

      ‘You can. And you will.’

      He didn’t like the look that now entered her eyes. It echoed the way she’d looked at the result of that pregnancy test. Terrified.

      ‘Think of it as a mission.’ He softened, trying to speak in language she understood to reassure her. ‘Like a tour of duty. It doesn’t need to be for ever.’

      And it didn’t. While not ideal or desirable, a divorce within the royal family was something that could be weathered. An illegitimate heir, however, was not.

      She stiffened at his words, the spark in her eye reigniting, but she paused before answering, ‘I understand.’

      He’d angered her, but at least that vitality had returned to her expression. His skin tightened and his blood heated.

      ‘But now I’ve had a chance to think,’ she said slowly, ‘it seems obvious to me that we don’t need to do this at all. Your brother is the Crown Prince. He makes the laws. So he can simply change the law to recognise the child as your heir. There is no need for us to marry for the baby to have its birthright.’

      Anger flared. Would she deny his child? Would she defy him? And she dared suggest he ask his brother to fix up this mess? Never would he do that.

      ‘My baby will have nothing less than she or he deserves. Nothing less than the very best.’ He placed his hands on her fine-boned shoulders and spoke right into her face. ‘I repeat. We will be married here tomorrow. Whether you like it or not, it is what will happen.’

      She flung her head back and glared up at him. ‘You can’t make me.’

      ‘No?’ He laughed at the challenge, and the urge to bait her was irresistible. ‘You are a soldier. You are trained to do as you are told.’

      Her nostrils flared. ‘I will not obey you. You are not my superior officer. And I’m no longer a soldier.’

      ‘You’re a born soldier,’ he said. ‘And I am a prince of the realm.’

      ‘But not the Crown Prince.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘You’re not the supreme commanding officer. You’re not the monarch who passes the laws of the land. You are nothing but a mere man to me.’

      His lips curled as satisfaction rushed and adrenalin surged, sharpening every one of his muscles. This challenge and fearless fighting vitality was what he’d liked about her. She was no prince-adoring sycophant.

      ‘A man that you wanted. That you had. That you’re now stuck with. For better or for worse,’ he mocked, but he meant it. ‘And you will do as I say tomorrow. You’ll find you have very little choice in the matter.’

      ‘There are always choices.’ Her chin stayed high, her expression determined.

      And she had made hers. She’d turned her back on him and climbed away. At the time he’d only been able to watch, angered beyond belief and yet frankly marvelling at her agility.

      Then he’d waited to see what the ramifications would be. He’d ordered a trusted ally to keep an eye on her, because as much as he wanted to move on he couldn’t until he understood why she’d done what she had. He needed to ascertain whether she would sell her story or try to seize some other opportunity that he couldn’t foresee. But there’d been only silence. Until that call today from his aide—detailing the worst consequence ever.

      ‘Some choices are wiser than others,’ he said ruefully. ‘Do not make this harder than it needs to be. There is no point banging your head against this particular brick wall. You’re only going to bruise yourself.’

      He leaned closer, so close to the tense, sulky mouth that he knew was actually soft and hungry. The mouth he wanted more than was rational. The mouth he would not let himself taste again until she acquiesced to everything.

      Until he was certain she really wanted him again.

      Because she was an enigma, this woman who’d given so much and yet held so much back. He did not trust her. But he wanted her. Her quickened breathing fanned his smouldering desire and the spark in her eyes ignited it.

      ‘If you insist on doing so,’ he murmured huskily, ‘I will kiss your bruises better.’

      Stella sucked in a shocked breath. Silenced. He remembered their stupid banter that afternoon on the beach? How could he make a joke at a time that was so terrible? He couldn’t be taking this seriously.

      Yet his words and his expression sent heat licking along her veins. Sweetness rushed south to where it would be needed if her body was to take his again. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t take her eyes off him.

      His slight, set smile now faded. He was staring back—at her mouth. She yearned to lick her lips but knew it was her body attempting to send a blatant signal to pull him nearer, and she was resisting that instinct this time. She was not giving in to it again. That basic, carnal instinct had succeeded in what it had wanted. Procreation. The drive to mate and create new life. There was no need for her body to want his again.

      Oh, but there was pleasure, her reawakened inner wanton whispered. There was all the pleasure he could give her with his lips, tongue, hands and—

      ‘I suggest you freshen up and then have some lunch,’ he said brusquely, stepping away from her in a quick, leashed movement. ‘We have many plans to make and you’ll need to be able to concentrate.’

      ‘Plans?’ she choked, determined to bite back the desire that he so easily conjured from her.

      Because he didn’t want this any more than she did.

      ‘Yes.’ He turned and gave her thin tee shirt and clinging pants a coolly ironic once-over. ‘You’ll need to choose your wedding dress.’