Crowned for the Prince's Heir

‘How about these?’ Eleonora suggested softly, pulling open one of the drawers and beckoning for Lisa to take a closer look.

Lisa blinked. Inside was a flamboyant ruby necklace with glittering stones as big as gulls’ eggs—their claret colour highlighted by the white fire of surrounding diamonds.

‘Oh, my word,’ she breathed. ‘That is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘Isn’t it just?’ agreed Eleonora softly as she carefully removed the necklace. ‘It hasn’t been worn for a long time and is probably the most valuable piece in our entire collection. Why not surprise your husband with it?’

The jewels spilled like rich wine over Lisa’s fingers as she took them from the aide, and she could picture exactly the kind of dress to wear with them.

It became a labour of love. Something to work towards. Making her dress for the ball became her secret and she decided it would be her gift to Luc. An olive branch handed to him to make him realise she was prepared to do things differently from now on. That the current situation was far from satisfactory and she’d like to change it. She wanted to be his lover as well as his wife.

‘You are looking very pleased with yourself of late,’ he observed one evening as they walked down the wide marble corridor towards the dining room.

‘Am I?’

‘Mmm.’ His gaze roved over her as a servant opened the doors for them. ‘Actually, you look...blooming.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him. ‘I think that’s how pregnant women are supposed to look.’

Luc inclined his head in agreement, waiting until she’d sat down before taking his seat opposite and observing her remarkable transformation. When she’d first arrived she had looked strung out and her expression had been pinched—something which had not been improved by their unsatisfactory sleeping arrangements. He had briefly considered moving into his old bachelor rooms to give her the peace she so obviously needed. To make her realise that the only thing worse than sharing a bed with him was not sharing a bed with him.

But then some miraculous thaw had occurred. Suddenly, she seemed almost...contented. He heard her humming as she brushed her teeth before bed. He noticed that she’d started reading the Mardovian history book he had given her on the plane. Hungrily, he had watched the luscious thrust of her breasts as she walked into the bedroom with a silken nightdress clinging to every ripe curve of her body, and realised he had nobody but himself to blame for his frustration. He could feel himself growing hard beneath the sheets and had to quickly lie on his belly, willing his huge erection to go away, and he wondered if now was the time to make a move on her. Because his experience with women told him that she would welcome him with open arms...

‘You are excited about the ball?’ he questioned one evening when they were finishing dinner.

‘I’m...looking forward to it.’

His eyes flicked over her. ‘You have something to wear?’

‘You mean...’ on the opposite side of the table she smoothed her hand down over the curve of her belly ‘...something which will fit over my ever-expanding girth? It’s not very attractive, is it?’

‘If you really want to know, I find it very attractive,’ he said huskily.

She stilled, her hand remaining exactly where it was. ‘You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.’

‘I never say anything I don’t mean.’ He touched the tip of his tongue to his lips to help ease their aching dryness and wished it were as simple to relieve the aching in his groin. ‘So why don’t you go and put on your dress? Show me what you’ll be wearing.’

She hesitated. ‘It’s a secret.’

For some reason her words jarred, or maybe it was his apparent misreading of the situation. The idea that she was softening towards him a little—only to be met with that same old brick wall of resistance.

‘So many secrets,’ he mocked.

At this her smile died.

‘That’s a bit rich, coming from the master of secrecy,’ she said. ‘There’s so much about yourself that you keep locked away, Luc. And, of course, there’s the biggest concealment of all. If you hadn’t kept your fiancée such a big secret, we wouldn’t have found ourselves in this situation, would we?’

‘And doubtless you would have preferred that?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

Her challenge fell between them like a stone dropped into a well but Luc told himself he would not allow himself to be trapped into answering hypothetical questions. Instead, he deflected her anger with a careless question. ‘What is it about the hidden me you would like revealed, my princess?’

She put down the pearl-handled knife with which she had been peeling an apple and he wondered how deeply she would pry. Whether she would want him to divulge the dark night of his soul to her—and if he did, would that make her understand why he could never really be the man she needed?

‘What was it like for you, growing up here?’

It was an innocent enough query but Luc realised too late that all questions were a form of entrapment. That if you gave someone an answer, it paved the way for more questions and more exposure. He gave a bland smile, the type he had used countless times in diplomatic debate. He would not lie to her. No. He would be... What was it that accountants sometimes said? Ah, yes. He would be economical with the truth.