Princess's Pregnancy Secret

CHAPTER ONE

DAMON GALE STALKED the perimeter of the crowded ballroom, dodging another cluster of smiling women whose feathered masks neither softened nor hid their hunger as they stared at him.

He shouldn’t have discarded his mask so soon.

Turning his back on another wordless invitation, he sipped his champagne, wishing it contained a stronger liquor. Women wanted more from him than he ever wanted from them. Always. While they agreed to a fling—fully informed of his limits—when it ended, recriminations and resentment came.

You’re heartless.

He smiled cynically as the echo rang in his head. His last ex had thrown that old chestnut at him a few months ago. And, yes, he was. Heartless and happy with it.

And what did it matter? For tonight business, not pleasure, beckoned. Tonight he was drawing a line beneath a decades-old disaster and tomorrow he’d walk away from this gilded paradise without a backwards glance. Just coming back had made old wounds hurt like fresh hits.

But for now he’d endured the outrageously opulent entrance, navigated his way up the marble staircase and walked through not one but five antechambers. Each room was larger and more ornate than the last, until finally he’d reached this gleaming monstrosity of a ballroom. The internal balcony overlooking the vast room already brimmed with celebrities and socialites eager to display themselves and spy on others.

Palisades palace was designed to reflect the glory of the royal family and make the average commoner feel as inconsequential as possible. It was supposed to invoke awe and envy. Frankly all the paintings, tapestries and gilded carvings exhausted Damon’s eyes. He itched to ditch his dinner jacket and hit one of the trail runs along the pristine coastline that he far preferred to this sumptuous palace, but he needed to stay and play nice for just a little while longer.

Gritting his teeth, he turned away from the lens of an official photographer. He had no desire to feature in anyone’s social media feed or society blog. He’d been forced to attend too many of these sorts of occasions in years past, as the proof of the supposed strength of his parents’ union and thus to maximise any political inroads they could make from their connections.

The bitterness of their falsity soured the champagne.

Fortunately his career wasn’t dependent upon the interest and approval of the wealthy and powerful. Thanks to his augmented reality software company, he was as wealthy as any of the patrons in attendance at this palace tonight. But even so, he was here to make the old-school grace and favour system work for him just this once. Grimly he glanced over to where he’d left his half-sister only ten minutes ago. The investors he’d introduced her to were actively listening to her earnest, intelligent conversation, asking questions, clearly interested in what she was saying.

That introduction was all she’d agreed to accept from him. She’d refused his offer to fund her research himself and, while it irritated him, he didn’t blame her. After all, they barely knew each other and neither of them wanted to dwell on the cancerous and numerous scars of their parents’ infidelities. She had her pride and he respected her for it. But he’d been determined to try to help heal two decades of hurt and heartache caused by lies and deception, even in some small way, given his father’s total lack of remorse. From the intensity of that discussion, it seemed his job was done.

Now Damon turned away from the crowds, seeking solace in solitude for a moment before he could escape completely.

Symmetrical marble columns lined the length of the room. On one side they bracketed doors to the internal courtyard currently lit by lights strung in the trees. But on the other side the columns stood like sentries guarding shadowy alcoves.

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A wisp of blue caught his eye as he approached the nearest column and he veered nearer. A woman stood veiled in the recess, her attention tightly focused on a group of revellers a few feet away. Her hair was ten shades of blue, hung to her waist and was most definitely a wig. A feathery mask covered half her face like an intimate web of black lace. Her shoulders, cheekbones and lips sparkled in a swirling combination of blue and silver powder.

Damon paused, unable to ignore the way her long dress emphasised every millimetre of her lithe body, clinging to her luscious curves and long legs. Despite that sparkling powder, he could see the tan of her skin and it suggested she was more mermaid than waif. She definitely spent time in the sun and that toned body didn’t come from sitting on a spread towel doing nothing.

She was fit—in all interpretations of the word—but it was her undeniable femininity that stole his breath. Her pointed chin and high cheekbones and perfectly pouted lips were pure prettiness and delicacy, while her bountiful breasts were barely contained in the too-tight bodice of her midnight-blue dress.

She hadn’t noticed him as she stood still and alone, watching the crowd. So he watched her. Her mask didn’t hide her emotions—while her intentions were not obvious, her anxiety was. Something about her stark isolation softened that hard knot tied fast in his chest and set a challenge at the same time.

He was seized by the desire to make her smile.

He was also seized by the urge to span his hands around her narrow waist and pull her close so he could feel the graceful combination of softness and strength that her figure promised.

He smiled ruefully as raw warmth coursed through his veins. Its unexpected ferocity was vastly better than the cold ash clogging his lungs when he’d first arrived. Perhaps there could be a moment of pleasure here after all, now his business was concluded and that personal debt paid.

He quietly strolled nearer. Her attention was still fixed on the people gathering in the glittering ballroom, but he focused on her. She hovered on the edge of the room, still in the shadow. Still almost invisible to everyone else.

Her breasts swelled as she inhaled deeply. He hesitated, waiting for her to move forward. But contrary to his expectation, she suddenly stepped back, her expression falling as she turned away.

Damon narrowed his gaze. He had his own reasons for avoiding occasions like this, but why would a beautiful young woman like her want to hide? She should have company.

His company.

He lifted a second glass from the tray of a passing waiter and stepped past the column into the alcove. She’d paused in her retreat to look over that vast room of bejewelled, beautiful people. The expression in her eyes was obvious, despite the mask and the make-up. Part longing, part loneliness, her isolation stirred him. He spoke before thinking better of it.

‘Can’t quite do it?’

She whirled to face him, her eyes widening. Damon paused, needing a moment to appreciate the layers of sequins and powder on her pretty features. She was so very blue. She registered the two glasses he was holding and darted a glance behind him. As she realised he was alone, her eyes widened more. He smiled at her obvious wariness.

‘It’s your first time?’ he asked.

Her mouth opened in a small wordless gasp.

‘At the palace,’ he clarified, wryly amused while keenly aware of the fullness of her glittered lips. ‘It can be overwhelming the first time.’

Fascinatingly a telltale colour ran up her neck and face, visible despite the artful swirls of powder dusting almost every inch of her exposed skin. She was blushing at the most innocuous of statements.

Well, almost innocuous.

His smile deepened as he imagined her response if he were to utter something a great deal more inappropriate. Her body captured his attention, and he couldn’t resist stealing a glance lower.

Heat speared again, tightening his muscles. He dragged his gaze up and realised she’d caught his slip. Unabashed he smiled again, letting her know in that time-worn way of his interest. She met his open gaze, not stepping back. But still she said nothing.

Alone. Definitely unattached. And almost certainly on the inexperienced side.

Damon hadn’t chased a woman in a long while. Offers from more than willing bedmates meant he was more hunted than hunter. He avoided their attempts to snare him for longer, bored with justifying his refusal to commit to a relationship. He had too much of what women wanted—money and power. And yes, physical stamina and experience. Women enjoyed those things too.

But the possibilities here were tempting—when she reacted so tantalisingly with so little provocation? Those too-blue eyes and that too-sombre pout were beguiling.

He’d barely expected to stay ten minutes, let alone find someone who’d rouse his playful side. But now his obligation to Kassie had been met, he had the urge to amuse himself.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

Her pupils dilated as if she was surprised but, again, she said nothing.

‘I think I’ll call you “Blue”,’ he said leisurely.

Her chin lifted fractionally. ‘Because of my hair?’

He had to stop his jaw from dropping at the sound of her husky tones. That sultriness was at complete odds with her innocent demeanour. She was as raspy as a kitten’s tongue. The prospect of making her purr tightened his interest.

‘Because of the longing in your eyes.’ And because of the pout of her pretty mouth.

‘What do you think I’m longing for?’

Now there was a question. One he chose not to answer, knowing his silence would speak for itself. He just looked at her—feeling the awareness between them snap.

‘What should I call you?’ she asked after a beat.

He lifted his eyebrows. ‘You don’t know who I am?’

Her lips parted as she shook her head. ‘Should I?’

He studied her for a moment—there had been no flash of recognition in her eyes when he’d first spoken to her, and there was none now. How...refreshing. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m no one of importance. No prince, that’s for sure.’

Something flickered in her eyes then, but it was gone before he could pick it up.

‘I’m visiting Palisades for a few days,’ he drawled. ‘And I’m single.’

Her lips parted. ‘Why do I need to know that?’

That sultry voice pulled, setting off a small ache deep in his bones. He didn’t much like aches. He preferred action.

‘No reason.’ He shrugged carelessly, but smiled.

Her lips twitched, then almost curved. Satisfaction seeped into his gut, followed hard by something far hotter. Pleasure. It pressed him closer.

‘Why are you all alone in here?’ He offered her the second glass of champagne.

She accepted it but took such a small sip he wasn’t sure that the liquid even hit her lips. A careful woman. Intriguing.

‘Are you hiding?’ he queried.

She licked her lips and glanced down at her dress before tugging at the strap that was straining to hold her curves.

Definitely nervous.

‘You look beautiful,’ he added. ‘You don’t need to worry about that.’

That wave of colour swept her cheeks again but she lifted her head. There was an assuredness in her gaze now that surprised him. ‘I’m not worried about that.’

Oh? So she held a touch more confidence than had first appeared. Another shot of satisfaction rushed. His fingers itched with the urge to tug the wig from her head and find out what colour her hair really was. While this façade was beautiful, it was a fantasy he wanted to pierce so he could see the real treasure beneath.

‘Then why aren’t you out there?’ he asked.

‘Why aren’t you?’ Alert, she watched for his response.

‘Sometimes attendance at these things is necessary rather than desired.’

‘These “things”?’ she mocked his tone.

‘It depends who’s here.’

‘No doubt you

desire these “things” more when there are plenty of pretty women.’ She was breathless beneath that rasp.

But he knew she was enjoying this slight spar and parry. He’d play along.

‘Naturally.’ Damon coolly watched her over the rim of his glass as he sipped his drink, deliberately hiding his delight. ‘I am merely a man, after all.’ He shrugged helplessly.

Her gaze narrowed on him, twin sparks shooting from that impossible blue. ‘You mean you’re a boy who likes playing with toys. A doll here, a doll there...’

‘Of course,’ he followed her smoothly. ‘Toying with dolls can be quite an amusing pastime. As can collecting them.’

‘I’ll bet.’

He leaned forward, deliberately intruding into intimate space to whisper conspiratorially, ‘I never break my toys though,’ he promised. ‘I take very good care when I’m playing.’

‘Oh?’ Her gaze lanced straight through his veneer, striking at a weak spot he didn’t know he had. ‘If you say it, it must be true.’

Appreciating her little flash of spirit, he was instantly determined to take very great care...to torture her delightfully.

‘And you?’ he asked, though he already suspected the answer. ‘Do you often attend nights like this?’ Did she play with toys of her own?

She shrugged her shoulders in an echo of his.

He leaned closer again, rewarded as he heard the hitch in her breathing. ‘Do you work at the hospital?’

Tonight’s ball was the annual fundraiser and, while he knew huge amounts were raised, it was also the chance for hospital staff to be celebrated.

‘I...do some stuff there.’ Her lashes lowered.

Wasn’t she just Ms Mysterious? ‘So why aren’t you with your friends?’

‘I don’t know them all that well.’

Perhaps she was a new recruit who’d won an invitation for this ball in the ballot they held for the hospital staff. Perhaps that was why she didn’t have any friends with her. It wouldn’t take long for her to find a few. Some surgeon would snap her up if he had any sense. Then it wouldn’t be long before she lost that arousing ability to blush.