Princess's Pregnancy Secret

That was what he did for her.

* * *

Spent and satisfied physically, a different need surged fiercely through Damon. He didn’t want her doing this out of gratitude or pity. He lifted her onto his lap and cupping her chin, stared hard into her eyes—heavy-lidded, sea-green storms of desire gazed back at him. Dazed, yet seemingly seeing right into his soul.

Pure instinct drove him. He kissed her, slipping his hand under her skirt, skating his fingers all the way to her secret treasure. His heart seized as he discovered how hot and wet she was and satisfaction drummed in his heart. She’d not gone down on him from a sense of obligation; she’d almost got off on it. The least he could do was help her get the rest of the way. This thing between them had them equally caught. Her need—her ache—was his. Just as his was hers. She moaned as he flicked his fingers and pushed her harder, faster. He kissed her again and again, almost angry in the pleasure and relief of discovering her extreme arousal. It took only a moment and

then she was there, pleasure shuddering through her body.

She was inexperienced, yet lustful. Her shy but unashamed sensuality felled him—he wanted to make it better and better for her. But there was no bettering what was already sublime. No beating the chemistry that flared so brightly whenever they came into contact.

He held her in his arms and stood, carrying her down the stairs to the comfort of his bed. In this one thing, at least, he could meet every one of her needs.

Again, again, and again.

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘I THINK YOU can go a little faster than that.’ Damon double-checked her life vest and then dared her.

‘It’s even more fun than I imagined.’ Eleni smiled at him from astride the jet ski.

He grinned at the double-meaning glint in her eye. With wild hair and without a speck of make-up his Princess was more luminous than ever. With each moment he spent with her, he grew more intrigued. But he forced a laugh past the lump in his throat. ‘Because you like fast.’

‘I must admit I do.’

‘Then why not see if you can beat me.’

Her eyes flashed again and he relished the way she rose to his challenge. He liked seeing her this happy. The one thing he could do was give her more moments of freedom before she returned to full-time royal life and that damn goldfish bowl she lived in.

He got on the other jet ski. ‘Come on, we’ll go to the cove.’

Her laughter rang out as she took off before he was ready. Grinning, he revved his engine and set out to hunt her down.

Two hours later Eleni sat on the beach suffused with a deep sense of contentment. The place was paradise—and Damon in paradise? Heartbreaking. He talked, teased, laughed. But she liked him like this too—just sitting quietly alongside her, relaxed and simply enjoying the feel of the sun.

Now she understood why he’d been unable to trust her initially. Why he didn’t want his child caught between parents knotted together unhappily. But now that she knew, things had changed. Her feelings for him were deepening, growing, causing confusion.

She sat forward as a shiver ran down her spine. She didn’t like the cold streak of uncertainty; she’d bring forward warmth instead. She sent him a coy look. ‘I think I should go back to the house and have an afternoon nap.’

‘Ride with me this time. One of the guys will come get the other jet ski later.’

He sped back to the main beach while she unashamedly clung, loving the feel of the wind on her face and the spray of the sea, taking the chance to rest before what was to come. But when they walked up to the house, he diverted to the staircase, turning to her with a smile on his face.

Eleni stood on the threshold and stared at the new desk that had replaced the window seat in Damon’s office. It was angled, an artist’s desk. A cabinet stood beside it, together with a folded easel. Boxes of art supplies were neatly stacked on the top of the cabinet and instinctively she knew that were she to open the drawers, she would most likely find more. Paper, paint, pens, pencils, pastels, ink, brushes, canvas—so many art supplies and a desk and chair that were not for Damon to use. But for her.

Her heart raced. ‘When did you arrange this?’

Why had he arranged this? She stared at the beautifully set out equipment and then looked at him.

That gorgeous smile curved his mouth but he just shrugged. ‘I unleashed one of the graphic designers in an art store in the States. He got in last night and set it up while we were out just now.’ His gaze narrowed on her. ‘Would it have been better for you to choose the supplies yourself?’

‘No. No, this is...amazing. It’s so much better than what I use at home.’

He nodded slowly. ‘You don’t spend money on it because—’

‘It’s just a hobby,’ she answered quickly.

‘But it’s more than a hobby to you.’

She was unbearably touched that he understood how much she loved it. ‘It’s not going to bother you that I’m working here?’

* * *

Damon’s smile faded, leaving him looking sombre, and suddenly that intensity flared between them. That silent pull of something that tried to bind them closer. ‘I’m not going to tease you with the obvious answer because this is actually too important.’ He reached out and cupped her face. ‘I don’t want you to sit in the corner and be decorative and silent. I like your company. And not just...’

He let the sentence hang and his smile said it all.

Eleni stared up at him, her own smile tremulous. He’d put her in his space—placed her desk next to his and drawn her close to his side. He wanted her near him. Eleni had never had such a gift.

‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘I like your company too.’

* * *

When she woke the next morning Damon had already risen. She showered and put on a loose summer dress. She took some toast and fruit from the breakfast tray and climbed the stairs to see him. He glanced up from the book he was reading. In his white tee, beige trousers and bare feet, he was too gorgeous.

Even more so when that roguish smile lit up his eyes. ‘I thought you might sleep in.’

Heat burned in her cheeks as she remembered the little sleep they’d stolen through the night. But she was determined to tease him every bit as much as he teased her, so she adopted her most princessy tone.

‘I might take a nap later. You may care to join me then.’ She gestured at her desk. ‘I thought I’d take a look at my new toys, if that’s okay.’

He shut his book with a snap and sent her a stern look. ‘You ruined it with that last bit. You don’t need my permission. You’re free to do whatever you want.’ He reached for another book on his desk. ‘I’m not your King, Eleni. Not your master.’

She knew that. ‘I was just trying to be polite.’

‘You don’t need to try to be anything with me, Eleni. You can just be yourself.’

She was self-conscious to start with, too aware of how near he was and nervous of making too much noise as she removed plastic wrap and opened packets. She’d never really shared space like this with anyone.

‘I’m messy,’ she said, glancing at the bottles of ink she’d opened to test out. ‘Sorry.’

‘That’s okay. I’m messy too.’

That was a lie; his desk was immaculate. But as the morning progressed, the piles beside him began to grow. He read more than she’d have thought possible. He sent emails in batches, took video calls over the Internet. His focus didn’t surprise her, nor his ability to recall facts or tiny facets of design and interface.

Rosa appeared with another tray of food—fresh, beautifully prepared and presented. Eleni was used to immaculate service but this was different. This was more intimate, more relaxed, more friendly. Just like the island itself. He had such privacy and freedom here. It was the perfect holiday escape for her.

But it was his reality. His life. The space he’d secured for himself to think and create and build.

He connected or disconnected from the rest of the world as he pleased. No wonder he’d looked so uncomfortable at the thought of spending serious time in the palace. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle it, it was just that he didn’t want to. He had other things to think about—fascinating things, much more meaningful to him than gallery openings and charity visits.

And he had history back in Palisades—bitter family history that hurt. She understood that, for him, attendance at glittering events was only to promote the fallacy of his parents’ marriage. He thought everything about those evenings was false. But he was wrong.

They did important work. They had value too. She just had to help him understand it.

Lost in thought, she opened the drawers of the cabinet and selected a sheet of paper. She needed this time out to figure out their future. To accept it.

As she settled into her exploration of pen nibs and ink and the tin of beautiful pencils, time snuck away. When light glinted on the glass of water beside her desk, she looked up from the picture she’d fal

len into drawing. To her surprise, the sun was almost at its zenith and she knew both the sand and the water would be warm. Her whole body melted at the thought.

‘I just need to get this message sent and I’ll go with you.’

Startled, she glanced over and met Damon’s knowing gaze. He smiled at her and then looked down to his tablet, his fingers skipping over the keyboard.

She sat back, relaxing as she appreciated how hard he worked. People counted on him and he delivered. No wonder he’d become as successful as he had. An outlier—fiercely intelligent, gifted, and hard-working. But he liked to do things his way—in his place, in his time.

‘It’s looking good.’ Damon rose and studied her page.

She chuckled and shook her head.

He pointed at the faint lines she’d drawn in. ‘You’ve had training.’

‘Well, drawing classes were quite an acceptable occupation for a young princess.’

‘Until you wanted to get serious about it?’ Damon was too astute.

Even she’d understood that it was impossible—as had her art professor. She still saw him sometimes. ‘I used my interest to become knowledgeable about the art and antique treasures in the palace.’ She stood and stretched, keen to get out to the warm sunshine. ‘I like to take the tours sometimes.’

‘As the guide?’ Damon’s eyes widened.

She nodded, laughing at his expression.

‘No wonder they’re always booked out so far in advance—they’re all hoping to get on one of your days.’

‘I don’t commit to an exact timetable,’ she admitted.

‘Because you don’t want to become an exhibit yourself.’

No. Trust him to understand that. And she hadn’t wanted to disappoint people. She turned to get past him and head out to the beach.

‘I don’t see why it has to be only a hobby,’ he said, still studying the incomplete drawing. ‘You could sell them. People would buy them.’

Eleni laughed again. ‘They’d sell only for the signature. There’d be no honest appraisal from anyone. Some fawning critics couldn’t be objective for fear of offending the royal family while others would damn me to mediocrity for daring to think I could do something with skill.’

‘You’re afraid of what they think.’ He sent her that stern look again. ‘You don’t need to give a damn, Eleni. You could sell them for charity. Imagine what you could raise.’