Prince's Son of Scandal

He used the weight of his arm to keep them spooned. Her hair tickled his lips while the scent of her went straight to the back of his brain, finding where she had imprinted herself in Paris and settling like a puzzle piece matched to its empty space.

He shook off the notion. “I was eight. At boarding school. My life wasn’t affected much. We exchanged a few letters, but what was there to say?”

“You didn’t see her at all?” She tried harder to twist, rolling onto her back and forcing him to meet her gaze. “Do you see her now?”

“We send Christmas cards.” He shrugged off the jabs of rejection that still came alive when he revisited the memory. “Chosen by our personal assistants. We’re not sentimental people.”

Her expression grew appalled. “What about your father? You said you were young when he abdicated?”

“Renounced,” he corrected, regretting this. It was becoming too intimate. Too uncomfortable.

“Do you see him?”

“It was best we didn’t communicate.” This communication ended here, he conveyed by drawing back.

“But—” She groaned and rolled to face him fully. He could see a fresh wave of emotion taking its grip on her. Her hand closed on the front of his shirt, catching at a few chest hairs, making him wince. “Now I’m worried you’ll drop out of our child’s life like that. Swear to me you won’t.”

He covered her hand, loosening her fist and holding her slender fingers. He had to consciously overcome an urge to draw her hand to his mouth and kiss her bruised knuckles, even as he acknowledged she was far more likely to disappear than he was. Royal life was not easy, especially when shoved to the fringes as his mother had been. He didn’t blame his mother for extricating herself, and wouldn’t censure Trella when she did it, especially if the stress of life in the public eye put her in paroxysms like this.

“Duty may have skipped a generation, but it is firmly drilled into me. I will never forsake my obligation to our child.”

“Obligation.” Her brow furrowed. “What about love?”

He dried her cheek with his thumb. “Love is a problem not a solution.”

“Who told you that?”

“It’s an observation. My mother loved my father, which is why she couldn’t bear his cheating. My father loved the woman who cost him his kingdom. Duty is more reliable.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t have to argue with you, bella. Time reveals all. Now, let’s stop talking about things that upset you. What did your sister say about counting oranges? Tell me why she said that.”

* * *

Xavier hadn’t had his backside handed to him on one of the palace’s sixteenth-century gold platters since his teen years. He refused to allow it today.

He had had plenty of time in the night, lying awake making decisions between comforting Trella through crying spells and nightmares, until she fell deeply asleep in the early hours.

He rose to put his plans into action and by the time the Queen summoned him, he was able to preempt a shredding of his character by proving what he had told Trella—he adhered to duty above all else.

“She has agreed to that?”

“She will.”

“And you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

The Queen cocked a skeptical brow. “You spent last night with her. That implies...preoccupation.”

“You think we were having sex? No.” Despite having few secrets from his grandmother, her intrusive remark grated. “She was upset.”

“Gunter said she’s fragile.” Her mouth pursed with disdain. Ruling required strength of every kind, especially emotional.

He frowned, annoyed that Gunter’s report had preceded his own, especially because it was off the mark. Trella was besieged. It was different.

“She held off telling me because her pregnancy is high-risk.”

“So, it would seem, is she.”

An urge to defend her stayed lodged in his throat. She was a threat—one he was mitigating to the best of his ability.

“When would you like to meet her?” he asked instead.

“Perhaps after the baby is born?”

He hadn’t slept. That’s why the snub struck him as unconscionably rude.

Before he could react, Mario entered. “Deepest apologies, your Majesty, but Ms. Sauveterre’s brother insists on seeing her. We’ve stalled him as long as possible.”

“He’s here?” Xavier’s heart lurched with protectiveness and a jolt of alarm. Trella was catching up on much-needed sleep. More importantly, “We both spoke to him yesterday. She told him she was staying for the foreseeable future.”