One Night Heir (By His Royal Decree 1)

“I have a full schedule today and tomorrow for that matter.”

“You work too much.”

“It would be pretty hard to pay the bills otherwise.”

“You are no longer alone.”

“What, we get engaged and suddenly I’m supposed to quit my job and let you take care of me?” The scathing tone left no doubt what she thought of that idea.

“Not quit, no, but cut back? I would prefer it. Wouldn’t your doctor?”

“She made no stipulations about my work. It’s not physical enough to be risky to my pregnancy.”

“You are tired.”

“Not right now.” But her honest blue eyes told their own story.

“You would like to cut back your hours,” he guessed.

“I’m not lazy.”

“No, you are not.”

“You don’t expect me to quit?”

“No.”

“Even after we are married?”

“Photography gives you a great deal of satisfaction. There is no reason you should give it up entirely.”

“What part should I give up?” she asked in a wary tone he did not understand.

“I do not know. Whatever assignments are not as interesting to you?” Communication with women had always been like navigating a minefield for Maks.

He had hoped with Gillian agreeing to be his wife, it would be more straightforward, less fraught with explosive traps.

“You don’t have any particular ones in mind?”

“No.”

“My father disparages my book covers and is barely more tolerant of my portraits, but they at least have some artistic merit in his eyes.”

“I am not your father. And your portraits are pure and amazing art. I am no expert in the industry, but I like your book covers as well.” Maks had seen Gillian’s portfolio.

Her photographic portraiture was indeed unique. He was actually quite surprised it didn’t dominate her work and had remarked on that fact in the past.

She’d told him her prices were very high for the portraits she did do and she was really picky about what clients she took on. She wasn’t nearly as choosy about her book covers.

She brought other people’s visions to life with them. For her, it was a different kind of art. Apparently equally satisfying, but different.

“You just want me to cut back my hours?” she asked cautiously.

“The life of a princess is not without its demands. Your body is already taxed with the pregnancy.”

“How long do you plan to be in Volyarus?”

“Two weeks. I should have left several days ago.”

“But then Demyan told you about our little problem.”

“Our baby is not a problem.”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Good.”

“You’re awfully touchy.”

“I am going to be late.” He turned toward the bathroom. “Go back to sleep. It is still early.”

CHAPTER TEN

“BOSSY,” GILLIAN MUTTERED as Maks left the room.

She wasn’t really sure why the conversation had ended so abruptly. He’d thrown his need to leave and desire for her to accompany him out there and barely given her a chance to respond before dismissing her and what they’d been talking about.

True, he hadn’t left the apartment, but he’d effectively left the conversation, with instructions for her to sleep.

One thing Nana always said was that a woman who intended to enjoy her future had to begin as she meant to go on in any relationship. Whether of short or long duration, it was always worth setting expectations.

Their marriage would definitely fall under the long duration header.

Throwing back the covers, Gillian climbed out of the bed, glad the morning nausea that had plagued her seemed to be tapering off. She went to grab a robe, but then put it back deliberately. The water was already running for the shower.

He would just have to share.

It wouldn’t be super comfortable, but they’d done it before.

The bathroom was already filling up with steam from the hot shower when she reached it.

“You’re going to have to share the hot water,” she announced as she pulled back the shower curtain far enough for her to step into the tub with him.

He turned around quickly, his expression reflecting surprise.

She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Did you really think you could just tell me to go back to sleep and I would do it?”

“You need your rest.”

“We weren’t done discussing the things you’d brought up.”

“I thought we were.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” The exasperation in his tone would have been more impacting if his dark gaze wasn’t devouring her nudity.

“We made love twice last night.”

“So?”

“So, you look like you’re thinking about doing it again.”

“I am, but there isn’t time.” His tone was laden with unmistakable regret.

She laughed softly. “I don’t remember you being this insatiable.”

“Don’t you?”

Actually, he’d never made his fascination with her body a secret. “You’re more primitive about it now. I feel like you have this need to mark me.”

Incredibly, color washed across his cheekbones and then concern darkened his eyes. “Was I too rough?”

“No. Not at all. I like this less civilized side.”

“That is good to know.”

She put shower gel on a loofah and began washing him. “So, you want me to come to Volyarus.”

“My mother will want to see you.” He made a soft sound of pleasure in the back of his throat as she brushed the loofah over his chest.

“Will she be angry?”

“That you are not with me?”

She shook her head at this masculine inanity. “That we have to get married.”

“She approved my choice ten months ago.”

“Oh.” Gillian hadn’t realized it had gone as far as Maks talking his choice of a wife over with his mother. “My medical results certainly threw a spanner in the works for you.”

“Temporarily.”

She shook her head. “You really are an optimist, aren’t you?”

“I think you need that.”

“To counterbalance my so-called pessimism?” she asked sarcastically, her hands falling away from him.

His expression was entirely serious when he said, “Yes.”

“I’m not a pessimist.”

“Then you do a very good imitation of one.”

“People say hope doesn’t cost anything, but that’s not true. When you hope for things and you are disappointed, it hurts. When it happens a lot, hope gets harder and harder to let in.” She began washing herself, scrubbing with the loofah with jerky movements.

He reached to her, tugged the loofah from her hand and hung it from the hook on the enclosure wall, and then pulled her gently into his body. “I will do my best to fulfill the hopes you allow room in your heart.”

“You’re awfully poetic for a Cossack.” Tears tightened her throat.

“I’m not a Cossack.”

“Your ancestors were and sometimes genetics ring true.”

“Do they? What hope does our child have then?” he teased.

Gillian opined firmly, “She will have the best of both of us.”

“Was that optimism I heard?” He put his hand over his heart, feigning shock.

She smacked his chest, but gave a hiccupping laugh. “Yes.”

“Will you be able to join me in Volyarus?” Tension she didn’t understand after the humor and the charm came off him in waves.

“I think so. It will mean moving some things around and into the weekend, but then I can join you Monday and stay that week and through the weekend.”

“You will do that?”