“Not easily, no.”
“Were you upset?”
“You could not tell?”
“I thought…” She’d been very careful not to dwell on their last night together, but now, looking back, she realized he’d shown a near desperation for what he knew would be their last time together.
Looking at that night in light of what came later, she could see that he had indeed been really upset about breaking up with her.
She almost apologized, before she remembered the choice to walk away had been his. “You made the decision.”
He nodded. “And you chose not to fight.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she continued to argue.
What had there been to fight? By his own admission, he hadn’t loved her.
What she had to decide now was: would their child be happy in a home where only one parent loved the other one?
Her gut told her, “Yes.” In big, lead-heavy letters.
There was no particular pleasure in the knowledge, but there was a certain amount of relief. She could write her child’s destiny with a very different brush than her parents had used on Gillian’s.
If she had the courage.
If she trusted Maks to let her into that inner circle of his protection, even if he didn’t love her.
“You knew I was considering making you the next queen of Volyarus.”
“I didn’t think of it in those terms, but yes.”
“I did and you had to know that. Had to know that I was predisposed toward marriage to you, but still you let me go without any effort to convince me to stay.”
She couldn’t argue that particular point. From his perspective, he was right. “I didn’t see any advantage in doing so.”
“Did you not? Though you claim to love me.”
Maybe she would have been able to convince him. Probably actually. From the way he was talking. That might have made Maks feel weak and even to question his own honor and dedication to duty.
Love ebbed and flowed in life, but Maks’s sense of duty never would. If he felt it to her via their children, then it would never wane.
Would it be enough?
The one secret wish she’d cherished in her heart for her entire life was to be so special to just one person that they claimed her as irrevocably theirs and loved her more than their own convenience.
She’d never expected to come above everything in another person’s life. Her aspirations had not been that lofty. And it was a good thing. Even if Maks loved her, he would never put her, or anyone, ahead of his duty to country.
But she’d wanted to be more. More than just the woman who got accidentally pregnant with his heir. More than the woman he could walk away from because her ovaries were flawed.
And if she could not be more, could she be happy?
Looking deep into her own heart, she thought maybe she could.
She stared at him, her heart squeezing in her chest.
No matter her arguments, she knew one thing was true, even if he didn’t believe it. “Love is a very powerful force and I do love you.”
“Even now?”
“Even now.” Had all of this been to get her to admit it?
No. Again, the total lack of triumph on Maks’s handsome features spoke for itself.
His strong jaw set in a frown, definitely no victory there. “And you are refusing to even consider marriage to me until you have hit your second trimester. Where is the great power of love in that?”
Once again, Gillian found herself opening and closing her mouth without the tiniest sound emerging.
He did look smug now, though it was tempered by something she wasn’t sure she could name. If she wasn’t so certain it was impossible, she’d almost call it vulnerability.
“Unrequited love hurts,” she gritted out.
Didn’t he realize that?
Sitting up, his agitation evident, he demanded, “In what way am I hurting you?”
“You don’t want to be with me.”
“I assure you, I do.”
“Because of the baby.”
“I wanted to ask you to marry me before I knew you were pregnant.”
“But my supposed infertility stopped you.”
“It is not supposed. It is a medical fact.”
“Which means I may never be able to conceive again.” He needed to acknowledge that fact and deal with it.
“Then we use a surrogate, or adopt.”
“What about the potential problems with the surrogate or adoptive mother?”
“I do not share my father’s fears, nor would I be open to my mother’s type of ultimatum should my representative approach a likely candidate. I will already be married.”
“With an airtight prenuptial agreement.”
“Exactly.”
She almost laughed, but shock was making her too breathless for that. He wanted the prenup. The cagey politician.
“You definitely want more than one child?” she asked.
His parents had stopped after him.
“Yes.” Rock solid certainty in that single word.
“Even if it means using a surrogate, or adopting?”
“Yes.”
“What about in vitro?” Her hand automatically went to her stomach as she thought of giving the child in her womb a brother or a sister.
“It depends how open you are to multiple attempts at the procedure. We will not risk your health by multiple births of more than twins.”
That’s what bothered him about in vitro? The risks to her health? “How many children do you want?”
“At least two, but I would like a house full.”
She’d been raised an only child, but the mental image of her and Maks surrounded by a brood of children was incredibly appealing. “You live in a castle. That’s a lot of children.”
He laughed, tension leaving his body as he relaxed again in that wholly appealing pose she tried her best to ignore. “No more than four then.”
“Four?” she asked faintly, her heart racing with emotions she didn’t want to name.
“We will have help.”
“I won’t leave the raising of my children to strangers.”
“Naturally not, but you will not be required to change every diaper.”
She pulled a throw pillow into her lap, resting her arms on it as she tucked her legs up onto the couch. “And you won’t change any, being a prince and all.”
“I did not say that.”
She shook her head. “Right.”
“We have strayed from topic.”
“What topic is that?”
“You claim loving me hurts you and therefore you cannot commit to marriage to me.” Tension seeped subtly back into his frame with each word he uttered.
He did not like the concept at all, she could see that now.
But she wasn’t going to lie to him to spare his feelings. He hadn’t with hers. “You don’t love me.”
“So?”
“You aren’t making this easy.”
“I disagree.”
She snorted. “Big surprise.”
“You get sarcastic when you are tired, I have noticed.”
“I’m not tired.” But then she yawned, giving lie to her claim.
He smiled, the expression indulgent. “No, not tired at all.”
“Okay, so maybe I am. What’s your excuse?” It was getting harder and harder to maintain any level of annoyance with him, so her question came out more teasing than accusatory.
“For?”
“Your sarcasm.”
“I’m a sardonic guy.”
On that, at least, they could agree.
“You are saying that the mere fact that I do not love you causes you pain?” he asked.
Finally. He got it. “Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You discarded me so easily because you don’t love me. If you had, you would not have let me go without a thought.”
“Like you did me?” he asked
, his brow raised in inquiry.
Or simple superiority.
She chose to believe it was the former, but in her heart of hearts she couldn’t deny there was some truth to his comparison.
It ignored parts of reality she couldn’t, though. “It wasn’t without thought. I’ve missed you terribly.”
Another admission she hadn’t wanted to make, but had been compelled to because of his willful refusal to understand. Gillian glared at the culprit.
Maks did not appear fazed in the least by her small show of anger. “I missed you as well. I have said so.”
“It was your idea to break up,” she reminded him with some desperation as she felt the inexorable conclusion of this discussion growing closer and closer.
“I did not feel I had a choice.”