His Pregnant Christmas Princess Read online

  ‘Our baby will have to deal with all this too,’ Ana said after a while. ‘There are laws in Vela Ada about photographing young royals, but he or she will eventually become an adult and fair game. And even before then—even if we’re not talking photos—our child will be an object of curiosity. No opportunity to live life unobserved. And he or she won’t even get the choice I had.’

  She heard Rhys take a few steps towards her, but he paused a few metres away. He remained silent. A few lonely flakes of snow had begun to fall.

  ‘This is all my fault,’ Ana said softly. ‘I should never have agreed to accept a royal title bestowed on me by a man who didn’t care about me. I should never have agreed to marry a man I didn’t love. I should never—’

  ‘Ana...’ Rhys said, and in moments he was standing before her. ‘Stop. None of this is your fault.’

  Ana caught his gaze. They stood below the one lone street lamp, which provided more shadows than light. Beneath it, Rhys’s face was all sharp angles and his cheeks were coated in stubble. He seemed even taller, even bigger than usual.

  ‘I guess I didn’t plan ahead,’ Ana continued. ‘Although maybe that’s why I got engaged to Petar? There was a man who wanted all that I was so unsure about. Who wanted to be royal—who wanted the profile and the fame. Maybe I thought it would rub off on me?’ She sighed. ‘But it hasn’t. And now I’ve dragged you into it. I’ve dragged our baby into it.’

  At some point Ana’s attention had drifted away from Rhys, and she found herself studying her boots as she shuffled them in the light coating of snow.

  ‘Ana—’

  ‘Don’t get started again on how privileged I am, Rhys. I—’

  Suddenly Rhys was holding both her hands in his.

  ‘Ana, stop. Please. This isn’t your fault. Neither of us planned any of this. And I certainly don’t blame you.’

  ‘You can blame me for the royal title our child will have. The scrutiny you’ll be under from the moment people find out I’m pregnant. If I’d only said no and stayed plain old Ana Tomasich, then—’

  ‘Then I wouldn’t have met you, Ana,’ Rhys said, squeezing her hands.

  Something in his tone made Ana’s gaze shoot upwards, tangle with his.

  ‘I wouldn’t have met you because you wouldn’t have been a princess fleeing from a media storm.’

  He swallowed. The way he was looking at her was intense, like nothing she’d ever experienced.

  ‘And I’m glad I met you, Ana,’ he said. ‘Very glad.’

  They stood like that, alone together in the narrow lane, with Christmas lights twinkling above them, for long, long moments.

  ‘I’m glad I met you, Rhys North,’ Ana found herself saying, and realised as the words hung in the cold air that they were absolutely true. Despite what she knew lay ahead, and how much harder things were about to become.

  ‘We’re in this together now,’ Rhys said. ‘No more talk about blame or regret. This is our baby.’

  Suddenly it was obvious what Ana had to ask Rhys. As obvious as if the words had been formed in fairy lights.

  ‘Would you like to come to Vela Ada with me tomorrow?’

  He didn’t blink. He didn’t look surprised for even a millisecond.

  ‘I was always going to Vela Ada tomorrow,’ Rhys said. ‘I’ve already booked my flight. I wanted to be there if you needed me. I didn’t say anything as I didn’t want you to feel crowded—and I didn’t want to get in your way.’

  It took Ana a while to comprehend what he was saying—it was so unexpected.

  ‘But I’d much rather travel with you,’ he continued.

  They were still holding hands, and Ana felt the heat of Rhys even through the dual layers of wool. Now it was her turn to squeeze his hands.

  ‘I have to admit the royal jet is much nicer than flying commercial,’ Ana said frankly.

  And that made Rhys laugh, and then Ana laughed too.

  At some point their hands fell apart.

  But something had changed between them.

  Rhys’s words echoed in Ana’s brain as they walked back to the car with her forgotten bodyguards trailing behind.

  We’re in this together now.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  VELA ADA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT was tiny.

  In all the years Rhys had known Prince Marko, he’d never actually made it to the small island nation, so he studied his surroundings as they disembarked the plane with interest.

  It was cold on the Tarmac, although—as Ana had told him—it rarely snowed in Vela Ada, so the tree-covered hills that surrounded the airport weren’t dusted in white. They’d landed at the private royal terminal, even though the main terminal a short distance away was hardly bustling. Ana had explained that only limited flights flew direct to Vela Ada, with the majority of long-haul flights landing in nearby Dubrovnik and visitors then ferried to the island.

  But other than sharing that piece of information, Ana had been quiet all morning.

  She’d barely said a word last night either, after they’d left the market—although he’d been quiet then too. But that silence had been comfortable—as if they’d reached a shared understanding. This morning something felt different between them. Ana was distant.

  ‘I’d like to tell my mother by myself,’ Ana said as they approached the royal terminal building. ‘If that’s okay?’

  Rhys nodded. ‘Of course,’ he said.

  The point of his being here was to...well, to be here. He’d had no particular plan when he’d booked his flight other than wanting to be in Vela Ada should Ana need him.

  He couldn’t say he knew what her ‘needing him’ even looked like. But he definitely didn’t want to be a flight away—or even a day away, given the time it took to travel from Castelrotto to Dubrovnik without the benefit of a private jet—if she did.

  He knew Ana had been surprised he’d already planned to travel to Vela Ada. Hell, she’d been surprised he wanted to attend her pregnancy scans. But she couldn’t have been any more surprised than he was.

  For a man who’d spent so many years mostly alone amongst the mountains, it was strange to feel so compelled to be close to Ana.

  No—not Ana. To their baby.

  He’d tried not to analyse it too much—if he did, he got caught up in memories of Jess, and the talks they’d had when they’d dreamed of their own baby. Because was that where this came from? He’d spent so long wanting a baby with Jess, and now he was having a baby so unexpectedly he wasn’t able to let it—and therefore Ana—out of his sight?

  But that was the thing. If he was honest with himself, it wasn’t just about their baby. There was something about Ana.

  He’d meant it last night when he’d told her he was glad he’d met her. That he didn’t regret any of this. Even as messy and confusing as it was, and as obvious as it was that his life was about to change for ever.

  He couldn’t regret that night he’d had with Ana. A night that had once again filled his dreams, the memories only intensified by the proximity of Ana only metres away in his guest room.

  He could try to justify to himself that being in Vela Ada was purely about the baby, and that was a big part of it, no question, but as he watched Ana walk beside him now, her stride determined and—dared he even think it?—regal, her expression revealing nothing, even though he knew exactly how much doubt swirled in her brain, well...

  He was here because of Ana too.

  Ana stepped through automated glass doors and into the terminal building, with Rhys only a step behind her. From here they were due to be collected in separate cars—Ana to head to her home, and Rhys to a hotel. He was unsure what Ana’s plans were—he suspected, like himself, she wasn’t planning too far ahead at the moment.

  But the instant they entered the marble-tiled building it was clear things were not going to go to plan.


  ‘Ana!’ a woman yelled out, followed by a string of Slavic that Rhys didn’t understand.

  The woman came running across the nearly empty space, her heels clicking on the tiles. Close behind her—walking briskly—was Prince Marko. Beside him was the heavily pregnant Princess Jasmine.

  ‘Majka—’ Ana began, and as the woman came closer it was obvious who she was.

  Even with her silver-streaked hair, the woman was undeniably Ana’s mother, with the same angular jaw and cheekbones, and a tenacity that she’d clearly passed on to her daughter.

  Rhys might not speak Slavic, but he could paraphrase exactly what Ana’s mother was asking. Where the hell have you been?

  * * *

  Ana was absolutely not ready to face her mother.

  Yes, the whole reason for her wanting to get back to Vela Ada quickly was so she could talk to her mother—but it wasn’t supposed to be here. Straight off the plane and out of sorts after spending two days alone with Rhys.

  On the plane she’d kept telling herself she’d be fine once she was back at her own place and had had a few hours to herself to get her thoughts in order. After last night’s revelation—that she couldn’t regret meeting Rhys—and then having the most vivid dreams of her life, of memories created in the very bed she’d been sleeping in, she could barely look at Rhys without blushing.

  So she really wasn’t in the ideal headspace to have a significant conversation with her mother.

  ‘How could you just disappear like that?’ her mother asked. ‘Without a word? I was so worried! Palace Security wouldn’t even tell me where you were. Why would they do that? Why, Ana?’

  Her mother directed an accusing glare at Rhys, who had stepped closer to her. Close enough that they looked kind of like a couple—which probably wasn’t helping the situation.

  Ana took a step away and immediately regretted it. There was something about having tall, broad Rhys by her side that made her feel better about everything.

  But she wasn’t going to step back again now. They weren’t a couple.

  Prince Marko and Princess Jasmine came to a stop beside Ana’s mother. Even dressed casually in jeans, the couple looked as polished as always. Jas had confided in Ana that she had also found the transition to Princess difficult, but Ana honestly found that hard to believe. Jas was the darling of Vela Ada—while Ana had managed to embarrass the royal family once already as a runaway bride, and was about to do it again with her pregnancy.

  ‘Vesna...’ Prince Marko began, addressing her mother in a low and soothing tone. ‘How about we all go back to the palace to discuss this?’

  Ana had known her entire life that she was actually Marko’s cousin, but it hadn’t made her any less starstruck when she’d first met him and King Lukas twelve months ago. They might be blood relatives, but she’d grown up seeing the Prince and the King as celebrities she’d read about in newspapers, magazines or on social media.

  She’d even watched the televised wedding of Marko to Princess Jasmine only a few months before Prince Goran had died, and had oohed and aahed over Jasmine’s dress, not to mention the whole fairy tale of Jasmine’s transition from bodyguard to princess.

  But at no point had she imagined she would one day be part of that glossy, photographed, televised world.

  Ana’s mother was having nothing of Marko’s attempts to calm her.

  ‘Ne razumijem!’ she continued, meeting Ana’s gaze—I don’t understand. ‘Ne razumijem,’ she repeated, but more softly this time. Sadly.

  Ana noticed the red rims round her mother’s eyes and the dark shadows beneath them. Seeing the worry she’d caused her mother made her feel ill. Vesna had been informed she was safe, but nothing more...simply because Ana hadn’t had any idea what she could say.

  She should have done better.

  Ana shook her head, feeling completely helpless. She couldn’t tell her mother—not here. Not in front of Marko and Jasmine, and Marko’s valet, Ivan, and the not insignificant number of palace bodyguards who hovered nearby.

  Vesna directed her attention to Rhys, as if suddenly realising he might be the oracle capable of answering her questions. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  As Ana watched, something shifted in her mother’s expression. Her mother glanced back to Ana. Then back to Rhys.

  ‘My name is Rhys North, Ms Tomasich,’ Rhys answered, in his lovely strong, husky voice. ‘If that was what you were asking. I’m sorry, but I don’t speak—’

  Vesna held up a hand to silence Rhys. Her attention was now entirely on Ana.

  ‘Who is this man to you, Ana?’ she asked. ‘Is he the reason you humiliated your fiancé? Is he the man you ran to in front of all Vela Ada?’

  ‘No, Mother, it’s nothing like that,’ Ana said. ‘He—’

  ‘I’m not stupid, moja kćer. I know what I can see with my own eyes.’ She turned to face Rhys and began to speak in English. ‘You stole Ana from a very good man. You stole her from the life she deserves. Do you have any idea what has been written and said about Ana? What people think of her after what she did? And she is none of the things they say! None.’

  She stepped closer to Rhys, who was so tall that Vesna had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. Ana wrapped her fingers gently around her mother’s wrist and attempted to tug her away.

  ‘Majka,’ Ana pleaded. ‘Stop this—’

  But Vesna shook Ana’s touch away. ‘My daughter is a princess. She is perfect. She had the life she deserved stolen from her, and when she finally had it you ruined it. How could you?’

  Tears slid down her mother’s cheeks and Vesna angrily swiped them away.

  ‘Majka,’ Ana repeated. ‘Please. Stop. Rhys hasn’t ruined anything. He’s helped me.’

  ‘Is that what they call it now?’ Vesna asked, with a humourless smile.

  Rhys had remained absolutely silent throughout Ana’s mother’s tirade. He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t moved. But now, suddenly, he spoke. ‘Ana is much more than a princess,’ he said.

  ‘And I’m not perfect, Mother,’ Ana added. ‘I never was, and I’m not now.’

  Ana felt Rhys’s gaze on her and realised he knew exactly what she was about to say. It wasn’t the right place, and it wasn’t the right time. But then nothing about her and Rhys and this baby had worked out the way she’d planned, had it?

  ‘I’m pregnant, Majka,’ Ana said. ‘Rhys is the father.’

  Princess Jasmine gasped just as Vesna’s legs gave way. But Rhys caught her mother well before she hit the floor.

  * * *

  Two palace cars had come to the airport to collect them.

  Fortunately Vesna hadn’t actually fainted—her legs had simply become wobbly at Ana’s news. Unsurprisingly, Vesna hadn’t appreciated being caught by Rhys, and had disentangled herself within seconds. Still, Marko had organised for the royal physician to meet them at the palace to check Vesna—and Ana—over.

  But Ana hadn’t even given Rhys the option to travel with her.

  ‘I really need to talk to my mother,’ she’d explained as they’d walked behind the very gallant Marko, who had assisted Vesna to one of the cars. ‘You can go with the Prince and Princess.’

  Rhys couldn’t work out if he was pleased or unhappy with this. A big part of him thought it was important for Ana to have some time and space alone with her mother—who, despite her anger in the royal terminal, clearly loved her daughter very much—but another part of him was reluctant to leave her side.

  We’re in this together now.

  Was he taking his words last night a little too literally? After all, they’d be parenting from different countries. Travelling in different cars was nothing.

  Once seated in the car, Rhys attempted to admire the surrounding Vela Ada countryside as the two sleek cars nosed their way towards the palace: the lush rolling hills, covered in rows of g
rapevines or fruit trees, or densely packed with towering firs. The red-roofed villages tucked into leas and valleys. And, as they approached the capital city, the beautiful beaches and rolling waves of the Adriatic Sea.

  Princess Jasmine had attempted to provide some touristy running commentary as the car wound its way through the narrow roads to their destination, but at some point she’d seemed to realise that Rhys wasn’t exactly fully engaged.

  Was that my plan? he asked himself. To parent from Northern Italy?

  If he was absolutely honest, he had gone to great lengths not to consider the logistics of this baby in the past forty-eight hours and had instead stuck to the rather vague statements of ‘being there’ or ‘being a great father.’

  But what did that actually mean?

  As he stared out through the darkly tinted windows at the unfamiliar landscape, at the pretty capital city...and then, most tellingly, at Palace Vela Ada, perched at the highest point of the island, it became blindingly, patently obvious that he needed to work that out quick smart.

  Because as the palace gates opened and the cars followed the curved driveway towards the elaborate tiered steps at the palace entrance, it was more obvious than ever that Rhys’s life had changed for ever.

  And, more important—as Ana had made clear in that deserted Castelrotto street beneath the Christmas lights—their baby would be born into a life of intense scrutiny and expectation. A life that neither he nor Ana had much experience in.

  Could he ‘be there’ from Castelrotto?

  To a man fortunate enough to have been raised by wonderful parents, with a father who had been a huge part of his life—from coaching his primary school footy team to supporting Rhys in his chosen career, despite his own philosophical objections to war—the answer was obvious.

  But was he ready to leave Castelrotto? Was he ready to let go of the isolation he’d deliberately created these past few years?

  Palace attendants opened his door, and he exited the car only moments after Ana exited hers—parked just in front of him.