His Pregnant Christmas Princess Read online

  Did she sense him watching?

  As if something had made her look over her shoulder, she turned and caught his gaze.

  He didn’t say a word, but she nodded at his unspoken question: You okay? Then she returned to assisting her mother out of the car and Rhys watched, relieved, as Vesna gripped Ana’s hand tightly in hers—and didn’t let go as they ascended the steps.

  Rhys shook his head and silently laughed at himself. As he’d realised the day Ana had told him of her pregnancy, he wasn’t an I now—he was an us. Even if he remained in Castelrotto, he’d never get to be alone again in the way he’d craved five years ago.

  The way he’d still needed to be only three days ago.

  And, to be honest, the idea of letting go of that isolation was damn frightening. To so obviously embrace his responsibilities, with all the worry and fear and risk of losing it all again... To risk losing himself in all of that again...

  A part of him wanted to get back into the car and be driven straight back to the airport. A big part of him.

  But that wasn’t an option any more. It couldn’t be.

  So instead he jogged up the palace steps to catch up with Ana.

  * * *

  While Ana and her mother met with the physician in one of the palace’s salons, Prince Marko invited Rhys for a drink in a large circular room located at the base of one of the palace’s four stone turrets.

  ‘Welcome to the Knights’ Hall!’ Marko said jovially as he gestured for Rhys to enter before him.

  But a moment after Marko had shut the room’s door Rhys found himself shoved up against the wall, Marko’s hands gripping his shoulders with intent.

  ‘What the hell, Rhys?’ Marko said, his words low and harsh. ‘You thought it was a good idea to sleep with my cousin on the day she was supposed to marry someone else?’

  ‘It was the day after,’ Rhys clarified, unwisely, and Marko just shoved him harder—hard enough that his head whacked against unyielding stone.

  It stung, but Rhys didn’t make any effort to extricate himself. He was about the same size and weight as Marko, and they were both military-trained, but Rhys still reckoned he’d have the edge on the Prince if it came down to it.

  But he didn’t want to fight his old friend.

  ‘Mate,’ he said, ‘I didn’t take advantage of Ana, I swear. I’d never take advantage of any woman—surely you know that?’

  The grip on his shoulders loosened, but Marko didn’t let him go. The Prince shook his head. ‘You might not have taken advantage of her, but you didn’t do what was right for her.’

  At this, Rhys had to grin. ‘Marko,’ he said, ‘I think Ana is better placed to determine what is right for her than you or me, don’t you think?’

  Marko frowned, but his hands fell away. The Prince put a few steps of distance between them, and Rhys rubbed absently at the spot where his head had hit stone.

  ‘We had one night together that was right for us both at the time,’ Rhys said carefully.

  He hadn’t told Marko of his years of celibacy, but his friend did know he’d been single since Jess died.

  ‘It’s none of your business, but we used protection—and I don’t appreciate your commentary on whether or not that night should’ve happened. That night was between Ana and me only.’

  Marko sighed. ‘Fair point,’ he acknowledged, although he didn’t seem particularly happy about it. ‘You said “one night”,’ he added. ‘I know she hasn’t seen you since—although it appears Palace Security can lose a princess, I’d like to think they’d notice if she was seeing somebody—so you aren’t in a relationship?’

  ‘No,’ Rhys said firmly. ‘We’re not.’

  ‘You’re not?’ Marko prompted. ‘Or you weren’t?’

  Rhys narrowed his eyes. ‘We’re not in a relationship.’

  The Knights’ Hall was furnished with several brocade armchairs, many oil paintings and a suit of armour beside the low cabinet that Marko now strode towards. From it he extracted a bottle of something that looked like Scotch, and poured only himself a drink.

  As if he needed any further evidence that Marko was unhappy with him.

  ‘This is complicated,’ Marko said.

  Rhys stepped away from the wall, then poured himself his own drink. He took a sip, barely tasting the surely heinously expensive liquid. ‘It’s my complication.’

  ‘And Ana’s,’ Marko said. ‘And therefore mine.’

  Rhys raised an eyebrow. ‘Since when do you care about protecting the royal family’s reputation?’

  Marko’s past was scandalous—until his engagement to Jasmine he’d been known worldwide as Europe’s ‘Playboy Prince.’ He’d eschewed everything about royalty—particularly when it came to anything close to royal duty.

  ‘This has nothing to do with protecting the royal family. This has to do with protecting Ana. The media will tear her apart when this gets out. The timing is unfortunate, and you’re not even together.’ Marko took another long sip of his drink, then shot Rhys a sharp look. ‘Why aren’t you together, anyway? Ana is fantastic.’

  The Prince was behaving exactly like a protective older brother.

  ‘I know that,’ Rhys said. ‘But we just had one night. It wasn’t supposed to be more.’

  ‘So it could be?’

  ‘No.’

  Marko ran a hand through his hair. ‘It would be much easier if you were in a relationship. When we eventually speak to Palace Communications, they’re going to wish you were engaged after a whirlwind courtship.’

  ‘I’m not marrying Rhys.’

  Marko and Rhys spun around to face the now open door of the room. How long had Ana been standing there?

  Ana met Rhys’s gaze and her lips kicked up in a half-smile. ‘I already almost married a man I didn’t love and who didn’t love me,’ she said. ‘Someone told me recently that the next time I marry it should be for love, and I’m planning on following that advice.’

  Rhys tried to read Ana’s gaze, but she wasn’t giving anything away. Had she heard him so definitively dismissing having a relationship with her? And if she had, why did he care?

  ‘You wouldn’t have to marry him, Ana,’ Marko said. ‘It would just be a PR exercise.’

  Ana shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t put Rhys through the drama of even pretending to be in a relationship with me. After what happened with Petar, the media attention would be unbearable.’

  She hadn’t moved any further into the room. Instead she just stood there, her posture perfect, her hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail, looking assured and in control.

  ‘I can handle this by myself, Marko. Okay?’ She met Rhys’s gaze and smiled. ‘I’ll see you both in the dining room. Jas has invited my mother and me to stay for dinner.’

  She turned to leave, but Rhys walked to her side. ‘What if you didn’t have to handle this yourself?’ he asked, reaching out to touch her arm.

  She went still, before slowly turning to face him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If it helps to pretend that we’re in a relationship for a while—and I imagine it will—then I’m all for it.’

  Ana blinked. ‘Really? Why?’

  This close to her, Rhys realised there was a wobble to her lips and a sheen in her eyes.

  ‘Because you didn’t get pregnant by yourself. It seems unfair you’re the only one who has to deal with the consequences.’

  For a long moment they just stood like that, looking at each other. Rhys was sure Ana was about to say something. But finally all she managed was a brief ‘Thank you’, before she disappeared down the hall towards the dining room.

  After she’d left, Marko cleared his throat behind Rhys.

  His friend was smirking. ‘Just one night?’ he asked.

  Rhys didn’t feel that question was worthy of a response.

  But
as Marko walked past him, also to head for the dining room, the Prince said, clearly and calmly, ‘If you hurt Princess Ana, I will destroy you.’

  Rhys stayed in the Knights’ Hall to finish his drink.

  He didn’t need Marko reminding him to be careful. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Ana.

  And to make sure he didn’t do that, he just needed to forget that he’d never stopped wanting her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ANA STEPPED INTO the palace foyer well before ten a.m. the following day.

  The palace attendant who had opened the doors for her had disappeared to locate the Palace Communications Secretary, whom she was about to meet with Rhys, so she was left alone in the marble-tiled expanse.

  She was early—but she’d literally had nothing else to do other than think about this meeting, so she’d eventually decided she might as well stop pacing the lounge room of her villa and come to the palace.

  As she waited, she admired the twin staircases before her, each sweeping up to meet at the first-floor landing. She’d always loved this space: its grandeur, its royalness. This, as much as the castle’s turrets, was what made this place so special.

  In one of the bedrooms, or the salons, you could almost forget where you were. You could convince yourself you were in a particularly fancy hotel, or something. But not here. Here in the foyer, you were undeniably in a palace.

  Above her was surely the largest chandelier ever made, and before her—hugged by those glorious staircases with their rich red carpets and gilt handrails—was a Christmas tree. It filled the space with the clean, fresh scent of fir, and its colourful Christmas lights and decorations were reflected in the mirror-shine marble beneath her ankle boots.

  If she was ever going to feel like a princess, it was here, standing in this foyer.

  The first time she’d stood here, almost a year ago, she certainly hadn’t felt like one. She certainly hadn’t felt she belonged in this place.

  But today, Ana realised suddenly, she did feel as if she belonged here. She felt as if her family lived here.

  Although the main residents—King Lukas, Queen Petra and their son, young Prince Filip—were at the Pavlovic Estate in central Vela Ada for Christmas, she did visit them, and Prince Marko and Princess Jasmine, regularly.

  She knew, deep down in her soul, that she was genuinely welcome at Palace Vela Ada. The entire royal family had embraced her as one of them.

  As part of the royal family.

  Tears prickled out of nowhere, and Ana was swiping at her eyes when footsteps announced the arrival of the Palace Communications Secretary.

  Ana spoke as she turned to meet her. ‘I don’t expect to start our meeting early—’ she began, before her gaze fell on a man who was most definitely not the blonde-haired communications secretary Ana had been expecting.

  ‘Rhys!’ Ana said, and her stomach did that annoying somersault it insisted upon doing in his presence. She ignored that and smiled. ‘Good morning! How are you?’

  He grinned his gorgeous grin, which triggered yet another tummy flip.

  ‘Let’s just say I could get used to living here. My suite is almost as large as my house, and the chefs will literally make you anything you want for breakfast.’

  Ana realised he’d noticed her wiping at those silly tears when he studied her carefully.

  ‘You okay?’

  She nodded briskly. ‘Of course. Just being a little sentimental. It’s probably the baby hormones.’

  She made that comment blithely and then immediately realised it was probably true. The physician had made her pregnancy sound very real last night, scheduling her in for a dating scan and providing her with booklets full of information. Not that it hadn’t felt real before now...but that had been more in relation to how having a baby would change her life. Not the mechanics of what was happening to her body right this second.

  ‘I just realised that I’m part of the royal family,’ she suddenly blurted out.

  Why had she told Rhys that?

  She fully expected Rhys to say something smart, given how dim-witted that statement had sounded out of context. Something like: That’s usually how you end up becoming a princess, Your Highness. But instead he said, ‘I’m glad you’ve realised. Because you are.’

  Ana had noted the tension between Marko and Rhys last night. She’d overheard only the end of their conversation—notably Rhys reiterating his lack of interest in a romantic relationship with Ana—but she’d guessed what Marko had been doing. Rhys had just confirmed it. He’d been acting like a protective older cousin.

  Her warm, fuzzy feelings in relation to Marko’s actions were suitably neutralised by the reminder of Rhys’s declaration of wanting never, ever to be in a relationship with her, and she straightened her shoulders, shifting her smile from genuine to her much-practised princess smile.

  As she’d told herself many times last night, and again this morning, it was silly even to be bothered by Rhys’s words. It wasn’t as if anything had changed. It wasn’t as if she suddenly wanted to jump head first into another ill-thought-out relationship.

  But still... Did he have to be quite so definite?

  Despite her best efforts to tell herself otherwise, it had stung.

  ‘Your Highness!’

  The sound of stilettos on marble announced the arrival of the Palace Communications Secretary, Mirjana, at a brisk walk.

  She was quite a short woman, with polished hair and a penchant for dark red lipstick. Ana had had quite a lot to do with her, both after Prince Goran had died and then again when she’d become a runaway bride. Mirjana determinedly put a positive spin on everything and seemed rather to enjoy all the extra work Ana had been providing her with.

  Ana liked her a lot.

  Mirjana grinned as she looked from Rhys to Ana and back again. Then she literally rubbed her hands together.

  ‘Let’s go create the romance of the millennium!’ she announced with glee. ‘Follow me.’

  * * *

  The palace car purred to a stop outside one of Vela Ada’s finest dining establishments. Princess Ana was its only passenger.

  The media weren’t going to be tipped off about Ana’s dinner date with a ‘mysterious stranger’ until shortly after Ana and Rhys had enjoyed their entrée, so Ana knew she wasn’t about to step out onto the street and face the paparazzi.

  No one knew she was here—yet—but still Ana’s pulse raced. Fast enough that she brought her fingers to her neck, as if the insignificant pressure of her hand could slow her accelerating heart.

  She took several deep breaths as she waited for her driver to open the door. She was being ridiculous. It was just dinner.

  Her door was pulled open and Ana swung her legs out onto the cobblestones, then looked up to thank her driver...

  But it was Rhys holding out his hand to assist her.

  Rhys in a midnight-blue suit, snow-white shirt and matching blue tie. Rhys with his usually just that little bit untidy hair slicked back just right. Like, very right.

  Automatically she took his proffered hand, and as his skin touched hers Ana gasped. Her gaze flew up to meet his, and for just a moment they went still—Ana still seated, Rhys standing.

  It was as if they needed time to absorb the electricity of their touch, to allow for all that instant heat and tummy flipping...

  Although Ana supposed she could only speak for herself. Rhys probably couldn’t work out why she was still sitting in the car like an idiot.

  Except he hadn’t exactly tugged at her hand to hurry her up. And his gaze was properly drinking her in, from her ponytail—very chic, so her hairstylist had told her—to her emerald-green boatneck dress with its cut-outs at the shoulders, her dark tights and suede heels.

  Ana shivered under his perusal.

  ‘You’re cold,’ he said, and pulled her to her feet.


  Ana’s driver materialised with her houndstooth coat, but she shook her head. She literally had metres to walk to reach the restaurant door.

  Rhys didn’t drop her hand as they walked towards the door. That door was also opened for them, and then they had several flights of stairs to ascend to reach the restaurant’s famous rooftop location.

  The whole time Rhys didn’t drop her hand.

  Was this part of the script?

  Ana couldn’t remember—but then, she could barely think when Rhys was touching her.

  Surely they had touched over the past few days?

  Yes, they had—just after she’d told him about her pregnancy. But his touch then hadn’t sparked all these fireworks...which made sense, given the conversation they’d been having. And they’d held hands again at the Christmas market, but that had been through layers of woollen gloves.

  Even then his touch had made her heart race, but this was a whole other level. This was exactly the way she’d felt the first time he’d touched her in his kitchen. It was all about heat and attraction and—no matter how much she didn’t want to feel this way—want.

  It was kind of awkward to walk up a staircase hand in hand, but Rhys didn’t drop his touch.

  Ana didn’t mind. But just before they took the last few steps that would put them in view of anyone on the landing, his hand fell away.

  At the top, the maître d’ greeted them and immediately directed them to their table.

  It wasn’t a particularly large restaurant, and usually bookings were required months in advance. Consequently nearly every table was full. As they crossed the terracotta-tiled floor, several people looked up from their meals, and Ana watched as each one of them recognised her.

  That was the thing about being a surprise princess and a runaway bride—she’d become rather well known.

  She also watched as the diners saw Rhys, and saw their eyes widen as they put two and two together.

  She knew this was exactly the point of the dinner, but still... She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed the disapproving glances, or that they didn’t sting.