His Pregnant Christmas Princess Page 12

  Their table was located just slightly away from the other diners.

  During summer, when the glass walls of the restaurant were concertinaed open, they would be greeted with a vista of red-tiled roofs, undulating down towards the Adriatic Sea. But tonight, with the sun long set, a different vista awaited Ana and Rhys.

  This vista was a sparkling, twinkling one—partly because of the cast-iron lamp posts that edged the city’s streets, and the many windows dotting the sandstone buildings of Vela Ada—but of course it was the city’s Christmas lights that made the view truly spectacular. White and coloured lights twined between the lamp posts all the way to the marina, and more elaborate lights straddled the streets that led to City Hall. Those lights, up high above the passing cars, were formed of stars and baubles, nativity scenes and candy canes.

  And right at the end—in front of City Hall—was the Christmas tree Ana had stared at through her tears from in the library, the day she’d found out she was a princess.

  Even after they were seated and their wine had been poured Ana found herself gazing at that tree. This year, she noticed, the lights were different. Rather than being scattered all over the tree, this year the lights were arranged like a giant single piece of tinsel, winding its way from the glittering star down to the street below.

  ‘Do you know,’ Ana said, holding the wine she knew she wouldn’t be drinking, ‘it’s only three days until Christmas and I keep forgetting about it? I’m not even sure what I’m doing on Christmas Day any more. Is that part of this thing?’

  She meant their supposed relationship.

  ‘We’re both having Christmas dinner at the palace,’ Rhys confirmed. ‘And I’m hanging out with Prince Marko and Princess Jasmine for the rest of the day,’ he added. ‘Marko and I were actually photographed out running together this morning, which Mirjana is very pleased about. She said it supports the “old friend” narrative. Which is not surprising, given Marko and I are old friends.’

  Ana grinned. ‘She tried so hard to make it so that you and I were old friends too. She was so disappointed we’d never even been in the same country until last month.’

  Ana couldn’t say she was disappointed Mirjana hadn’t got her wish of creating the fantasy that Rhys was a close friend or an old flame. She understood what Mirjana was trying to do—how she was trying to tidy around the edges of a very messy situation—but Ana really didn’t want to lie. At least not to that extent. Pretending to be in a relationship was bad enough.

  Although with Rhys looking as devastatingly handsome as he was tonight, it wasn’t particularly difficult to pretend. In fact, it was a lot more difficult to convince herself that any of this was an act.

  ‘You look beautiful, Ana,’ Rhys said suddenly.

  Ana’s gaze had wandered to the lights amongst the rooftops, but it now shot back to meet his.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, rather awkwardly.

  What was she supposed to say?

  ‘I mean it,’ Rhys said.

  He was looking at her in a way that made her realise the whole sexy hand-holding thing had not been one-sided—although had she ever believed it was? She knew this look he had right now. This look where his eyes, even in the muted light of the restaurant, were so clearly focused on her, so clearly full of intent.

  And then he looked away.

  He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ he said. He took a long sip of his Merlot.

  ‘Why not?’

  The question had escaped before Ana had a chance to halt it. But she genuinely wanted to know. In this beautiful, romantic setting, with Rhys, it was difficult to remember she supposedly already knew the answer.

  Rhys’s head jerked up. ‘Pardon me?’

  Ana shrugged. ‘I don’t think there’s a rule against us saying nice things to each other.’ She smiled. ‘For the record, you look very zgodan yourself.’

  Rhys’s lips quirked. ‘I’m going to assume that’s a good thing.’

  ‘Of course,’ Ana said.

  Her tone was light and the tension between them lessened. Or at least was paused. Or something. Enough that they could peruse the menus and hold a conversation, anyway.

  But the tension certainly didn’t entirely go away. But then, it never did. It never had.

  Their appetiser arrived—pogača—and Ana immediately started tearing off pieces of the delicious tomato, anchovy and caramelised onion stuffed bread. She’d noticed her appetite had begun to change in these past few days, and she was now pretty much constantly hungry.

  Their conversation drifted comfortably, eventually landing on Ana’s former career.

  ‘Why did you become a librarian?’ Rhys asked her.

  ‘Because I love libraries,’ Ana said simply.

  She realised she’d finished her pogača before Rhys had eaten even half of his.

  ‘Libraries?’ Rhys asked. ‘Not books?’

  ‘Books too,’ Ana said.

  Rhys pushed his plate towards Ana.

  ‘You don’t like it?’ Ana asked, disbelieving.

  ‘I do like it,’ Rhys said. ‘But you can have it if you’d like.’

  Ana’s cheeks felt warm. ‘Is it that obvious?’

  Rhys shrugged, then said in a low voice, to prevent anyone overhearing, ‘You’re growing a baby. I imagine that requires a lot of energy.’

  ‘It appears so,’ Ana said. But she shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine, thank you. And the last thing we want is someone noticing me eating for two, when according to Mirjana I’m yet to conceive.’

  Yet again words had escaped before Ana had a chance to censor them, and her cheeks went hot. The last thing she needed to be doing was reminding them both of the night they had, in fact, conceived.

  ‘Books are just a part of libraries,’ Ana said hurriedly, returning to their original, safer conversation topic. ‘A big part, of course, but libraries are so much more. There’s the obvious stuff—access to computers, the internet, and activities for kids—but for me growing up it was more about the physical space. You know... It was a place where I belonged—where everyone belonged. If you think about it, there aren’t many places where you’re welcomed like that—where you can just be and you don’t need to explain yourself, where you don’t have to rush, you don’t have to know anyone.’

  ‘You needed a place to belong?’ Rhys asked.

  Ana tried to explain. ‘I wouldn’t say I didn’t belong elsewhere—I mean, I had a couple of good friends at school, and I certainly felt loved and as if I belonged at home. But I guess...’

  She’d been going to say something generic, about how libraries were a conduit to the broader community and civic life, but she didn’t. Instead she found herself telling him something no one else knew.

  ‘When I was growing up, my mother was really open with me about who my father was,’ Ana said. ‘She had photos to show me of Prince Goran, and she talked to me a lot about him when I was very young. But as I got older, and better understood how he’d abandoned me, I didn’t want my mother to talk about him. It made me angry for her and angry at him. I know my mother wanted me to be more interested—wanted me to carry on her crusade for Prince Goran to acknowledge me—but I was never going to do that. I was never going to chase after a father who didn’t want me.’

  Ana looked out over the rooftops again.

  ‘But I did want to know more about the other half of my family. I wasn’t going to use the computer at home in case my mother realised what I was doing and got the wrong idea, and I wasn’t going to use the computers at school in case anyone noticed. You have to remember literally no one believed my mother. I didn’t want to start up the gossip again, after it had taken so many years for my mother to move on from the original scandal.’

  Their main meals arrived, but neither Rhys nor Ana began eating.

  ‘So I used to go to the librar
y after school. But I didn’t use the computers there—instead I read history books about the Vela Ada royal family. From centuries ago to the present. I read about the history of Palace Vela Ada, I read about the old King Josip and Prince Goran’s parents—I read anything to do with those people, and at the back of my mind I was thinking That’s my great-great-great-grandmother, or That’s my second cousin.’

  Ana met Rhys’s gaze.

  ‘I could do that in the library and no one questioned me. I could be an anonymous schoolgirl and read anything I liked and that was okay.’

  Ana realised she was tracing the tines of her fork with her fingertips, and made herself keep her hands still on her lap.

  ‘Maybe that’s why I felt I belonged at the library,’ she said. ‘Maybe at the library I was part of the royal family. I had all these relatives...cousins...a father. Everywhere else he was Prince Goran. Reading those books, in my mind, I called him my father.’

  Ana found herself suddenly extremely focused on her dinner, and rapidly sliced her grilled fish into many pieces. She wasn’t sure why she’d just told all that to Rhys. She supposed she would tell their child one day. So she might as well tell Rhys too.

  But that didn’t ring true. She always found herself sharing more of herself with Rhys than she usually did with anyone. Than she ever did with anyone.

  ‘Prince Goran was mad not to want to be part of your life.’

  Ana looked up from her meal to meet his gaze. She appreciated Rhys’s sentiment, but she had no idea if Prince Goran had regretted his decision. He’d given no hint in his letter. Maybe he’d wished things were different, and that was why he’d finally acknowledged her birth? Or maybe he was the type of man who did the right thing—which acknowledging her paternity undoubtedly was—only if there were no negative consequences to him. And, close to his death, that was the situation he’d found himself in.

  ‘Are you close to your father?’ Ana asked.

  Rhys took a moment to respond.

  ‘We’re very different in some ways, but he’s always been a wonderful dad.’

  He’d spoken carefully and hadn’t really answered her question.

  ‘Does he visit you often in Castelrotto?’ she asked.

  She popped a piece of fish in her mouth and ignored the twinge of jealousy as she imagined having a father who would cross the world for his child.

  ‘No,’ Rhys said flatly.

  Ana swallowed. His entire demeanour had changed.

  ‘He doesn’t like to fly?’ Ana prompted.

  ‘No, nothing like that,’ Rhys said. ‘I haven’t invited him.’

  Rhys had done that shuttered thing with his eyes—packing away his emotions and becoming neutral, revealing nothing.

  An uncomfortable, foreboding heaviness settled in Ana’s stomach, and her voracious appetite instantly disappeared.

  ‘Do you go back to Australia much to visit your family?’ Ana asked, her words brisk.

  But she had a feeling she already knew the answer. She already knew he hadn’t shared Christmas with his family for many years. She already knew he had a small mountain of ignored invitations stuffed in a shoebox in his pantry.

  ‘No,’ Rhys said. ‘I haven’t seen any of my family for a long time.’

  ‘But you were close to your family,’ Ana pressed, remembering his stories of joyful Christmases past. ‘Why don’t you see them?’

  Rhys shrugged, but it was far from convincingly nonchalant. He remained silent.

  Ana tilted her head as she studied him. As she watched, Rhys drained his wine. Then he placed the glass down carefully on the white tablecloth, keeping his fingers wrapped around the stem for far longer than necessary.

  He met Ana’s gaze again. ‘After Jess died I spent a lot of time in Melbourne. There was the funeral, of course, and then a few weeks living with my parents. But eventually I needed to go back to the barracks, which are based out of Perth—more than a three-hour flight away. I was looking forward to it, actually. I was desperate to go back to work. I loved my job. I loved the mateship, the teamwork of the regiment. And I needed that structure back in my life. So badly.’

  His gaze was steady on Ana’s now.

  ‘But when I got on the plane, I had a panic attack. Almost the entire flight my mind was examining every single thing that could possibly happen to those I loved while I was away from home. Logically, I knew why I was doing it—I was deployed in Afghanistan when Jess died, so I was linking being away from home with her death. I could be as logical as I wanted, but it made no difference. For three hours or more I wasn’t able to function.’

  He looked away, just briefly. He closed his eyes and swallowed. Then he looked back to Ana.

  ‘I think I hid it pretty well. I mean, I don’t think anyone around me knew what was going on. But that didn’t matter—I knew. I needed to get my anxiety under control or I’d never be the soldier I’d been for my whole career. Back at the regiment, I saw the doctor, but it was a waste of time. Nothing helped because I’d changed. I couldn’t shut out the rest of the world when I was on a mission any more. I was too busy worrying about things I couldn’t control—and my whole job was about being in control of the moment. So I retired.’

  None of this explained why he didn’t see his family, Ana thought.

  ‘Saying goodbye to my family never got any easier,’ Rhys said, answering her unspoken question. ‘But I couldn’t live in Melbourne. It was a place I didn’t fit into any more—it was the backdrop to a life that I’d never get to experience again. So I moved to Italy.’

  ‘And made sure you didn’t ever have to say goodbye again?’

  Rhys nodded. Then he cleared his throat, his gaze suddenly uncharacteristically unsure. ‘I’ve got my anxiety under control now,’ he said firmly. ‘I haven’t had an attack in years. I’ve worked out myself how to manage it—mostly by running on my treadmill until it hurts a lot.’ His lips curved upwards. ‘So you don’t need to worry about it.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me if you have issues with anxiety,’ Ana said carefully, and her gaze was steady. ‘Although it would bother me if you avoided seeing your child because of it. It would bother me very much.’

  Rhys’s eyes widened. ‘I would never abandon my child.’

  ‘But it sounds like you’ve abandoned your family,’ Ana said.

  Rhys narrowed his eyes. ‘I have not done that.’

  Ana placed her cutlery down on her plate, unable to eat any more. ‘You said you haven’t seen your family for years,’ Ana said. ‘So how do you keep in touch? Phone? Email?’

  She already knew that letters clearly weren’t a reliable way to communicate with Rhys North.

  ‘I haven’t abandoned my family, Ana,’ Rhys said firmly, and his non-answer deflated her half-hearted bubble of hope.

  Her hope had been that just maybe Rhys was a terrible letter correspondent, who never saw his family but never missed a weekly video call to his mother, or something...

  But, no.

  ‘What would you call moving to another country and never seeing or talking to them again, then?’

  Ana realised she’d raised her voice when heads swivelled at a nearby table. She pasted on her princess smile until they looked away again, then leant forward in her chair.

  ‘Rhys, I know what it feels like to be abandoned. I won’t allow you to hurt our child like that. I will not.’

  But even as she said the words she realised she had absolutely no power to prevent that. None.

  She leant back in her chair and once again stared out over the city. She was utterly helpless to protect her child if Rhys wasn’t capable of being the kind of father she so wanted him to be. The type of father that until tonight she hadn’t really questioned he would be.

  Deep in her heart Ana had believed Rhys was a good man. A strong man. She remembered how relieved she’d b
een when he’d told her he wanted to be a part of their child’s life. And, like a naïve idiot, she’d simply believed him.

  ‘Ana?’

  She turned back in her chair to look at him. He still looked impossibly handsome. Perfect. Not a hair was out of place. But she wished more than anything that his jaw was rough with stubble or his hair was mussed—because that was the Rhys she was familiar with...that was the Rhys she’d thought...

  She’d thought what?

  The Rhys she’d thought she knew? As if she and Rhys had some sort of special connection? When she’d spent not even four days in total with this man?

  Rhys hadn’t changed tonight. She’d just learnt something new. Something new about a man she barely knew.

  ‘Ana, I can’t talk about this here,’ Rhys said, in an urgent tone that made Ana think he’d said it more than once. ‘I can explain, but not here. We’re being watched, remember? We’re supposed to be falling in love, not having an argument.’

  Ana sighed and once again smiled her princess smile—but this time it was for Rhys.

  ‘I understand, Rhys,’ she said, so sweetly.

  ‘Ana, please—’

  But Ana focused all her attention on her meal, tasting nothing.

  They put on a show through dessert, chatting about things that Ana forgot the second the words exited her mouth, and finally stepped out of the restaurant to the click and flash of a crowd of paparazzi. Then they fell into the cocooning luxury of the palace car.

  At Ana’s villa, Rhys touched her hand just before the driver opened Ana’s door. Even now, electricity crackled up her arm, pooling in her traitorous belly.

  She ignored it completely.

  ‘Can I come in? We need to talk.’

  Ana shook her head. ‘Goodnight, Rhys.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FISHING BOATS AND yachts bobbed side by side along the marina directly outside Ana’s home. Her place was a traditional two-storey Dalmatian-style stone villa, with a ubiquitous red-tiled roof. Originally, it looked like the building once housed three terraced homes, with three doors equally spaced across the front, but now the entrance was through an iron gate to the side that looked very much in keeping with the centuries-old building—until you noticed the high-tech cameras and the guard waiting on the other side.