She’d have to face her mother sooner or later. Deliver news of the pregnancy. And then what? Tell her that she’d turned down Zak’s proposal or that she’d agreed?
Her heart flipped over. Was she really considering saying yes? To seeing him every day, to sharing his bed, connecting with someone who shared her professional pa
ssion?
What about love? The suspicion that ultimately this was only about the child she carried?
She froze as she neared the terrace. Could she marry Zak knowing she was second best behind his need to claim his child? Could she live with that?
Yes, her inner voice urged, even while her spirits dipped.
Could they build on that too, find their way to emotional fulfilment the way they already enjoyed sex and conversation?
She ignored the widening dismay that mocked her scrambled, pathetic excuses. Either she was going into this with her eyes wide open to the fact that Zak didn’t see her as anything other than the womb carrying his child and the woman warming his bed, or this threatening heartache would flatten her harder the—
‘Do you intend to linger in the doorway all day, cara?’
She jumped at the sound of his deep voice and despite the misgivings eating her alive stepped outside, her gaze magnetically drawn to where he sat, resplendent in the sunlight. She went hot all over again not at all surprised when her heart slammed against her ribs at the sight of him.
The thought of losing him sent an acute chill through her, and Violet knew she couldn’t turn her back on whatever Zak’s proposal entailed.
‘What’s wrong?’
The sharp enquiry was edged with the fierce determination in his eyes. Her breath stalled, her tongue clinging to the words she wanted to utter. Registering that his edginess had been present when he’d swept her off to bed last night, that she’d been too caught up to heed the look, never mind uncover what it meant, sent another wave of anxiety over her.
Dragging in a steadying breath, she approached and sat down. ‘Zak, we need to talk.’
Shadows sharpened his features as he raised a laconic eyebrow at her. ‘Do we?’
She slicked her tongue over her lower lip, the enormity of the step she was about to take consuming her whole. ‘You know we do.’
Stormy eyes held hers for another ferocious second before he waved at the table. ‘Geraldine has prepared everything you like. Don’t let it go to waste.’
Suspicion that he was avoiding the subject jangled her nerves even more. She should be grateful for the brief reprieve to consider her decision. But with each morsel she swallowed, the giddiness grew, the urge to blurt that Yes, I’ll marry you, even entertain that very male satisfaction at finally extracting the answer he wanted, suffusing her.
She thought of what would come after, the many nights and days she would spend with Zak, welcoming their child into the world, nurturing him or her...
Her hand shook with sheer elation, a world removed from the initial dismay she’d felt minutes ago. Setting her teacup down before it spilled, she laced her fingers in her lap and cleared her throat. ‘It’s been seven days, Zak—’
‘Technically, it hasn’t. Label me pedantic but we have until mid-afternoon before our time is truly up.’
She couldn’t wait that long. She couldn’t wait another minute. ‘Fine, but I think you should know I’m...considering—’
The butler’s diplomatic throat-clearing interrupted her.
‘What it is?’ Zak asked, his eyes narrowed on her face, cataloguing the nerves eating her alive.
‘My apologies for the interruption, Your Highness, but His Majesty, your brother, is on the phone for you.’
He rose. ‘I have to take it. Excuse me, Violet.’
‘But—’
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep the King waiting, do you?’ he said drily.
And yet as he walked away, she suspected he would’ve done exactly that if it’d suited him.
The real possibility that he’d changed his mind siphoned every scrap of joy she’d managed to fool herself into believing she would enjoy by agreeing to marry him.