Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride. Kate Hardy
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Right here and right now?’
She nodded.
‘I’d do this.’ He got up from the piano stool, walked over to her, drew her to her feet, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.
Just like last night. Except it was more intense because, this time, she knew how perfectly his mouth fitted against hers. How his touch made her pulse beat faster. How right it felt.
Oh, help.
She really didn’t want Lorenzo to know how much he affected her. After the way Nigel had betrayed her trust and abandoned her, she didn’t want to be that vulnerable ever again. Hopefully being a little sarcastic with him would defuse the situation and make her feel more in control again.
She fanned herself with one hand. ‘You’re not too shabby at this, Your Royal Highness,’ she drawled. ‘Did they teach you this at prince school, too?’
He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Indigo, will you please shut up about prince school?’
But her idea of a defence mechanism turned out to be a total failure, because then he kissed her again, tiny nibbling kisses that inflamed her senses and left her breathless. And she ended up kissing him right back.
This had to stop. Now. ‘Had a lot of practice, have we?’
It didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. ‘That’d be telling, and a prince should never kiss and tell,’ he shot back. ‘You talk way too much, Indigo Moran.’ He caught her lower lip between his, sending her pulse skyrocketing again. ‘But, since you clearly want to talk—let’s talk about last night,’ he said. ‘At dinner. That dress.’
She frowned. ‘What was wrong with my dress?’
‘Nothing.’ He sighed. ‘Apart from the fact that it made me want to pick you up, haul you over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift, and carry you to my bed.’
Which put another set of pictures in her head.
If he carried on like this, she was going to do something seriously stupid.
‘Droit de seigneur?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He kissed her again. ‘For the record, I don’t believe in forcing anyone to do anything they don’t want to do. Being a troglodyte and carrying you off to my bed is—’ he licked his lower lip ‘—well, a fantasy. Which I would only do if you liked the idea, too.’
Now he’d said it like that, she could really picture it. And what would come after, too...
She shivered.
‘What’s the matter, Indigo?’ he asked softly.
‘You’ve just made it hard for me to breathe,’ she admitted.
‘Good. Now you know how that dress made me feel last night. And your shoes. I noticed just how long your legs are. And if you’d had any idea how much I wanted to touch you...’ He traced the outline of her mouth with the tip of his forefinger. It made her tingle all over and she couldn’t help parting her lips in response.
And then he actually grinned.
Oh, really? she thought. He honestly believed he had more self-control than she did? Well, two could play at that. She held his gaze, then sucked the tip of his finger into her mouth.
Instantly his pupils dilated and there was a slash of colour in his cheeks.
‘Touché,’ he whispered. ‘Indigo, we need to stop this. Now.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘It wouldn’t be fair or honourable of me to lead you on. I’m going back to Melvante soon. My life’s going to change out of all recognition.’
Of course it was.
He looked tortured. ‘I can’t offer you a future.’
‘I know. And even if you could, I’d be the worst person you could ask,’ she said. What with the scandal surrounding her birth, and the fact that she’d been naive enough to trust Nigel and not work out for herself that he was already married, she was totally unsuitable even to be a king’s mistress. ‘I take it you need to find yourself a princess.’ Which would put her totally out of the running. Not that she wanted the formal, rigid life of a royal family.
He rolled his eyes. ‘I probably do have to choose a bride within the next six months, yes. And she probably has to be from a noble family. Though, just for the record, I don’t care if your parents aren’t aristocrats. It’s how you treat other people that matters to me, not how many coronets are in your family tree.’
‘Actually, my father’s an earl.’ He looked surprised, and honesty made Indigo add, ‘The problem is, though, he was still married to his countess when he had a fling with my mother and she fell pregnant with me.’
‘So that’s why you ended up at the same school as Lottie?’ he asked.
‘It was my father’s idea of providing for me,’ she said dryly.
‘Money instead of attention?’
He’d hit the nail right on the head. ‘My father and I are never quite sure if we ought to acknowledge each other or not,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to hurt his family by claiming him as kin—I mean, I’m the child of an affair, and it’d be horrible to rub their noses in that. It wasn’t their fault that he behaved badly. So it’s easier...’ She sighed. ‘Well, for me not to acknowledge him and for him to pretend that I don’t really exist.’
‘But that hurts you.’
Did it still show? Or was Lorenzo just particularly perceptive? She shrugged. ‘I’m lucky: my grandparents loved me. I was never deprived of love, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘But your grandparents let you go to boarding school at such a young age?’
‘They didn’t exactly have a lot of choice. My grandmother wasn’t very well at the time—they had enough on their plates without having to look after a small child.’
He frowned. ‘What about your mother? Why didn’t she look after you?’
She blew out a breath. ‘You might as well know the worst. When it was obvious that the earl wasn’t going to leave his wife for my mother, she left me with her parents and bolted.’ She looked away. ‘With someone else’s husband.’
* * *
Lorenzo knew first-hand what kind of damage affairs could cause. Collateral damage, too. His own mother’s affair had blown his whole world apart. If she’d been able to cope with life in the royal family, then she wouldn’t have had the affair—and his father wouldn’t have reacted by driving their car into a wall. And just maybe he would’ve grown up with both his parents, in a happy family, and it would’ve been another thirty years before he’d had to think about becoming king.
Or maybe it would’ve been a different kind of unhappy childhood, with his parents always arguing in private and pretending everything was just fine and dandy where the public was concerned.
Not that he was going to tell Indigo about that. He didn’t talk about the scars on his heart to anyone. Ever. ‘That’s tough on you.’
She shrugged. ‘As I said, my grandparents loved me.’
The implication was clear: her mother hadn’t. ‘Do you see your mother now?’
Indigo shook her head. ‘She ended up in a yachting accident with Married Man Number Four. She drowned. All I have of my mother are photographs and some very fleeting memories.’
It was the same for Lorenzo. Photographs and fleeting memories. Except nobody knew the true circumstances of his parents’ accident. Nobody except his grandfather and their legal adviser. They wouldn’t have told him the truth, except some papers had been misfiled and he’d come across them when he was eighteen and discovered the truth