Pregnant with a Royal Baby!

He sobered suddenly. “You know, we rarely talk about your pregnancy. Are you okay? Really?”

“Millions of women have babies every day. I’m not special or in danger because I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant with an heir to a throne.” He looked away, then glanced down at her again. “And even if he wasn’t heir to the throne, he’s my baby.”

He said it with such a proprietary air that her heart stuttered and she realized something unexpected. “So, like me, if we hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant, you wouldn’t have had a child, either.”

“No. A baby was part of the deal with the princess of Grennady. But this is different.”

“I know.” She ran her hand along her tummy, which was no longer flat. Though only slightly swollen, after a little over three months, it was beginning to show signs of cradling a child. “Do you think we’re going to be good parents?”

“I don’t know about you but I’m going to be an excellent father.”

She laughed. “Conceited much?”

“I am going to be a good father,” he insisted indignantly. “I know every mistake my father made with me and my brother—especially my brother—and I won’t do those things.” He shifted against the headboard. “What about you?”

“My mother was aces as a mom.” She laughed. “Still is. My dad left a lot to be desired.”

“So you’re not going to drink?”

She shrugged. “I sometimes think it’s smarter to demonstrate responsible behavior than to avoid something tricky like alcohol.”

“Whew. For a while there I thought you were going to tell me I was going to have to give up drinking until our kid was in college or something.”

Thinking of all the times she’d seen him come to the apartment and head directly to the bar, she turned slightly so she could look him in the eye. “It wouldn’t hurt you to cut down. Maybe not drink in the afternoon.”

“My job is stressful.”

“Scotch isn’t going to take that away.”

“But it makes me feel better.”

She peeked up at him again. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Some days. Others not so much. Those days it’s better to keep a clear head.”

“You deal with some real idiots?”

“Most of the people in our parliament come from old oil money. They care about two things. Keeping their families wealthy and keeping our waterways safe so that they can keep their families wealthy.”

She laughed. “You’re making fun, but it makes sense.”

“Right after my mother died there was a problem with pirates.”

“Pirates!” For that, she sat up and gave him her full attention. “I love pirates!”

He gave her a patient look. “These pirates aren’t fun like Jack Sparrow. They’re ruthless. Cutthroat. There was a particularly nasty band all but making it impossible for tankers to get through without paying a ‘fee’ for safe passage. The papers exploded with criticism of my dad for not taking a firm hand. Parliament called for his resignation. And he sat in his quarters, staring at pictures of my mom, having all his meals brought up, not changing out of sweats.”

“Holy cow.” Entranced now, she shimmied around to sit cross-legged on the bed so she could look directly at him as he spoke. “What happened?”

“On the last second of what seemed to be the last day before he would have been required to face down parliament, my dad sent the military to destroy the pirate ships. It was a war that lasted about forty-five minutes. He bombed the boats until there was nothing left but smoke and an oil slick.”

“Wow.”

“Then he sent the military to the country that was aiding and abetting, and just about blew them off the map.”

Two raps sounded on the door. Dominic pulled away. “That would be breakfast. You wait here.”

“You’re bringing me breakfast in bed?”

He tilted his head. “It looks like I am.”

She saw it then. Not just his total confusion over his feelings for her, but the reason for it. He’d said before that his dad had made a mistake that he did not intend to repeat. This was it. Except she couldn’t tell if the mistake was grieving his dead wife or being in love with his wife so much that he’d grieved her.

Dominic returned, rolling a cart covered with a white linen tablecloth into the room. He pulled a bed tray from beneath the cart and said, “I’m about to put bacon and eggs on this tray, so get yourself where you want to be sitting.”

Still cross-legged in the middle of the bed, she patted a spot in front of her. “I like to be able to look at you when we talk.”