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One Night Heir (By His Royal Decree 1)

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Which was exactly why they had to wait to make plans for the future. Plans, she acknowledged, if only to herself, that would include marriage and the title princess in her future. “If I miscarry—”

“Stop talking like that immediately. You are not going to lose this child.” His scowl seemed a lot more sincere than her glare had felt.

She didn’t want to argue that particular point anyway. And every day closer to her twelve-week mark decreased her chances of losing the baby she’d already grown to love and felt such a fierce protectiveness toward.

“You might fall in love with someone else.” She voiced her deepest fear, the one thing that no clause in a prenuptial agreement, no matter how carefully worded, could truly guard against.

No matter what he thought, love was an unstoppable force. He only had to look at his own father. There could be no doubt that Maks had come by his sense of duty and love of country naturally. And yet, the king had maintained a relationship for most of his adulthood that was not good for the Crown.

Because he loved the countess.

Maks looked supremely unconvinced. “That won’t happen.”

“Even you can’t prevent it by sheer force of will.”

“Of course I can. It is not merely a matter of will, but of actions. I can guarantee against it without doubt.”

She did not share his confidence. “How?”

“Not allowing another woman close enough for a relationship to grow into intimacy that could lead to love, for a start,” he said, like it should be obvious.

He had a lot of experience keeping people at bay, but proximity could undermine good intentions. “What if she works for you?”

“This is hypothetical as you well know. My personal office staff are all male, but if I thought a woman who worked for me was attracted to me, I would transfer her, or fire her, depending on how she revealed that attraction.”

“You wouldn’t be tempted?” Gillian had been to his company’s headquarters.

And while his personal office staff might be male, there were still plenty of beautiful women working for Yurkovich Tanner, both in the U.S.A. and in Volyarus.

“No. Would you?”

“By another man? Of course not.”

“But people in love cheat on each other all the time.”

“Not all the time.” But it did happen. “Most don’t.”

“Most? You are sure about that?”

What was she, Dr. Ruth? How should Gillian know? “Nana and Papa never have.”

Maks nodded, conceding easily. “They are exemplary people, but they’ve also protected their marriage vows.”

“Yes.”

“As will I.”

“You’re so sure you can’t fall in love with someone else.”

“You’re so sure I can?”

“No, but it’s possible.” Though the more they talked, the less likely she found it.

This man was determined never to be weakened by love. She couldn’t believe she’d just realized that about him because, really? It should have been obvious from Day One.

She’d blinded herself to his disdain for the emotion, but it rang through clear when the subject of his father’s “vacations” came up.

“And people in love, they never fall out of love and fall in love with someone else?” he pushed.

“You know it happens.”

“Because they did not protect that love, nurture it, make it paramount.”

“You sound like you understand love awfully well for a man who denies its reality.”

“Oh, I admit love exists. I deny its all-strengthening positive power. Love undermines duty and makes strong men weak.” That he believed every word he was saying could not be denied. It was in every line of his body, his tone and even the determination glowing in his brown eyes. “Insert relationship for love and you have my perspective on our marriage.”

She swallowed, struck to the very core with his definition of how to handle marriage. “Our marriage would be that important to you?”

“It would come second to nothing.”

He was delusional if he thought that. “That’s not true.”

“You accuse me of lying.”

“About this? Definitely. Volyarus comes first, last and always with you. Our marriage won’t trump that—it wouldn’t even if you loved me.”

“But our marriage is of paramount importance to our country’s well-being. Stability in the monarchy has always marked stability for Volyarus.”

They weren’t talking about the same thing. “If it came between an important political event and our anniversary, the event would win.”

“I am a better planner than that.”

“Some things are unavoidable.”

“Fewer than you might imagine.”

Was he making a promise? The expression in his dark eyes said he was.

Against her better judgment, Gillian wanted to believe him. Her unique upbringing had taught her that even if a person didn’t give the right name to it, they could have a necessary role in her life.

Like her grandparents, true mom and dad though they would never stand for being called that.

They had given her so much throughout her life, putting off their own dreams of early retirement and travel to see her raised.

Maks was offering her the same kind of commitment. It didn’t come wrapped in the pretty bow of love, but it wasn’t something to simply dismiss as unworthy, either.

No, Maks committed to her wasn’t something to dismiss lightly at all.

“Why a cruise ship?” she couldn’t help asking.

Now triumph flared in his espresso gaze. “Ariston can guarantee word of the wedding does not get out before we want it to.”

“Ariston?”

“Spiridakous.”

“The shipping magnate?” She wasn’t in the least surprised Maks was friends with someone so wealthy and powerful.

The man would be king one day and was already CEO of a company hugely competitive in the global market even though few people even realized it existed.

“His company is solidly diversified.”

“With a cruise line?” It must be nice.

“Among other things.”

“You only brought up the inside passage cruise because you know it’s one I’ve wanted to go on.” She’d mentioned it once.

Just once, but this man never forgot anything she was coming to realize.

“I will always try to meet your desires.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“ALWAYS?” SHE ASKED, feeling a sense of inevitability wash over her quickly followed by that irrepressible emotion: hope.

If she was burned by it again, she wasn’t sure her heart would survive it. “We should wait until after the baby is born. To be sure.”

“No. Stop. I have told you. No more of this negative thinking.”

“I’m just trying to be realistic.”

He laughed. Like she’d said something incredibly funny. “You are one of the worst pessimists I have ever known.”

“I am not. I’m an optimist.”

“In Eeyore’s universe, maybe.”

“You like Winnie the Pooh?”

“My mothe

r read the books to me as a child, just like your grandmother did you. I was not raised on a different planet.”

“No, I know. I just…” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say.

Telling him she didn’t think he’d had anything that normal in his childhood wouldn’t go over well. And it wouldn’t be true, either.

“If you are an optimist, then you will believe in our future and that of our child.”

“Wow. You’re so sure of yourself.”

“I am not wrong.”

“You are arrogant.”

“Sometimes.”

A lot more often than that, but saying so would just be querulous. And she didn’t want to be argumentative. Not right now. She wanted to dive into his arms and have him tell her everything would be okay.

But she’d left those kinds of fairy tales in childhood.

The thought of approaching him for physical comfort sparked a strange sort of tension inside her as well.

Wanting a minute to regroup (as she was dangerously close to giving in), she stood and picked up the plates. “I’ll just put these in the kitchen.”

“Let me help.” He jumped to his feet, quickly gathering the other detritus of their casual meal.

“I’m pregnant, not helpless.”

“You didn’t see me taking the plates right out of your hand, did you?” His smile was teasing, his expression unexpectedly lighthearted.

“No,” she admitted grudgingly.

“There you have it. Polite, not overly protective.”

Not entirely sure she minded overly protective or that he’d avoided it altogether, she found herself smiling back.

They fell into a surprisingly easy and natural rhythm as the dishes were rinsed and put in the dishwasher. “You’re awfully domesticated for a prince.”

“So you’ve said before.”

“And you claim to have lived on your own for more than a decade.”

“I have.”

Right. “You have a housekeeper and a maid for a penthouse apartment in a posh building that comes with access to an onsite chef and laundry service.”

“So?”

She wiped down counters while he finished loading the dishwasher. “So, you’re a dab hand at rinsing dishes and you aren’t going to convince me the maid, much less the housekeeper, leaves them in the sink for you to deal with.”

“I went to university for four years here, as well as two additional to get my MBA.” He put a soap tab in the door and shut the appliance with practiced efficiency. “That is six years doing my own laundry and dishes.”



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