One Night Heir (By His Royal Decree 1)

As the pleasure ebbed, small aftershocks dwindling to an all over sense of perfect well-being and happiness, she became aware of the small kisses he was placing along her neck, cheek and temple. She turned her head and their lips met in a moment so laden with her love, it was a living blanket around them.

*

They shared kisses between drying each other off after finishing their shower in lukewarm water. Her apartment didn’t have the unlimited hot water tank his swank penthouse suite enjoyed.

“What does sérdenko mean?” she asked.

Maks stilled and then leaned forward to kiss the side of her face. “Heart. It means heart.”

It was her turn to pause, everything inside her stilled in wonder. “Why?”

“You are the heart of this relationship.”

It wasn’t the words of love her soul longed to hear, but it was so much more than she’d expected after the way they’d broken up ten weeks ago, Gillian had to duck her head so he didn’t see the moisture pooling in her eyes.

He knew, though. Maks always knew.

He pulled the towel from her unresisting fingers and pulled her into another full body hug. “It will be good between us, Gillian. Believe me.”

“I do.” For the first time since she was a tiny child, Gillian made no effort to temper the hope bubbling up inside her like the sweetest of champagnes.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE NEXT FOUR days were a blur of activity for Gillian as she worked to clear her schedule for the last-minute trip to Volyarus.

Maks video called her twice a day, once in the morning and before bed each night.

In between, he was back to texting her frequently and now she was getting all three meals delivered as well as snacks in between. Some came to her apartment, others her studio, but when the catered delivery showed up at an offsite shoot, she knew this was more than just a matter of Maks instructing someone to make sure she got fed.

He was taking care of her and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

*

The private jet Maks sent to bring Gillian to Volyarus was swank, every appointment on the luxury end of comfortable. It was also already occupied.

Gillian had only met the woman sitting primly in the leather seat facing the entry door a handful of times, but she would have recognized Queen Oxana even if she never had. The queen of Volyarus might be a lesser known royal in the world of monarchies, but her visage had been in enough magazines and newspaper articles to make her a recognizable figure.

“Good evening, Miss Harris.”

Extremely grateful for all the awkward moments she’d spent at her father’s side at social functions now, Gillian did a standing curtsy. “Your highness.”

The queen rose from her chair, even that small movement graceful and elegant. “You may address me as Oxana. We are to be mother and daughter by marriage, I am told.”

Gillian couldn’t tell how the older woman felt about that fact from her perfectly smooth tone and politely inquiring features. Where the heck was Maks?

She couldn’t believe this little tête-à-tête was his idea. Which meant it was the queen’s. Oh, joy.

“Yes.” Gillian swallowed, her mouth gone dry.

“You are pregnant with my son’s child.”

“He told you?” The adrenaline of shock lasted only a few seconds and then tiredness took over, the past weeks catching up to her in an inexorable wave of mental and physical exhaustion. Gillian sighed, putting her bag on the seat nearest her. “Of course he told you.”

“Actually he did not.”

“Demyan?” Gillian guessed.

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“Apparently, unlike my son, he thought I should know the reason for Maksim’s insistence on a rushed elopement followed by a State reception.” The queen waved toward one of the cream leather seats, indicating Gillian should take it.

Knowing their takeoff slot was approaching quickly, Gillian put her seat belt on as soon as she’d lowered herself to the cushy leather. “Yes, of course. What I meant was why didn’t Maks tell you?”

Perfectly tweezed and shaped eyebrows rose slightly. “He does not want me to believe you have trapped him into marriage.”

“He’s protecting me.” Typical but not altogether welcome in this instance. Gillian would much rather Maks’d had this discussion with his mother. “The news was bound to come out.”

Queen Oxana nodded as she returned to her own seat, leaving the belt undone. “Yes, it was. Sooner than later and if he was thinking with his usual clarity, he would have realized this.”

“I haven’t noticed any lack in his sharp brain processes.”

“Haven’t you?”

“No.” Heat washed through Gillian, bringing with it a resurgence of the nausea she’d thought was gone for good.

Suddenly the queen was standing over Gillian, her hand on Gillian’s forehead. “You feel a bit clammy. Are you nauseated?”

Gillian could only swallow and nod.

Moments later, Gillian had a glass of carbonated mineral water and soda crackers sitting in front of her. The queen had returned to her seat, buckling her belt when the engines started warming up.

Gillian nibbled on the soda crackers while taking sips of the mineral water and tried to calm her inexplicably racing heart as the plane began its taxi toward takeoff. Or maybe not so hard to understand in the circumstances. She reacted to her own mother’s presence this way.

Why not a queen’s?

Queen Oxana spoke quietly to the flight attendant and then the man moved to the back of the cabin. Eyes so like her son’s examined Gillian with probing dispassion. At least, it looked like a lack of feeling.

Gillian was fairly certain there was a cauldron of emotion under the placid royal exterior.

“Feeling better?” Queen Oxana asked.

“Yes. How did you know, that I wasn’t feeling well, I mean?” Since she had been sitting down, there was no way the older woman could have seen how dizzy Gillian had become.

“Your face is quite expressive.”

So her urge to throw up had been evident in her expression? How attractive. “I see.”

“You will have to work on that.”

If she was going to keep up with the queen and her son, Gillian certainly would. Thinking that went without saying and that Maks’s mother didn’t need Gillian’s verbal agreement, she took a sip of her water and considered the next few hours in light of her company.

This led to another sip as her stomach roiled.

She was going to kill Maks. With his Machiavellian brain, he should have realized what Queen Oxana would do and circumvented it.

“I am not certain what that particular expression means, but it seems like someone might be in trouble.”

“You could say that.”

“My appearance surprised you.”

“Yes.” There was no point in trying to pretend otherwise. The way Gillian had nearly fainted in her seat was a dead giveaway.

“Maksim was born with duties and expectations few could understand, much less live up to.”

Unsure where the queen was going with that statement, Gillian nodded.

“He has always accepted his role without regret or complaint.”

“I know.” Gillian wished she knew the script for this scenario. “He has a highly developed sense of responsibility.”

“Some might even say overdeveloped.”

“Yes, but I would be surprised if you were one of them.”

“I am not the starry-eyed idealist I was when I first became queen. As I have gotten older, I have come to realize that perhaps my son’s happiness is as important as his duty to the throne.”

Gillian could not stifle the gasp of shock that opinion elicited.

Queen Oxana smiled wryly. “Yes, I know, Maks and his father both would find the idea bordering on the heretical.”

“But…” Gillian realized she did not want to bring up the queen’s own ch

oices that precluded happiness for the sake of duty.

The woman might be a public figure, but that did not make her life an open book.

“I would like to ask you a question, and I would appreciate it very much if you would answer honestly. Though I have little confidence you could hide the truth with your open expressions,” the queen mused, seemingly appreciative of that fact rather than disparaging.

“All right.” Gillian took another careful sip of water, her nausea not noticeably improved yet.

Queen Oxana nodded, like she hadn’t expected any other answer. “Did you get pregnant in order to trap my son into marriage?”

Water spewed as Gillian choked on the question and the beverage. The queen pressed a button and the flight attendant came bearing a linen napkin and a fresh glass of water. How he’d procured both so quickly, Gillian was content to leave a mystery.

He left, the damp napkin and her “compromised” glass of water in his capable hands.

“My question shocked you. It upset you as well, I think.” Queen Oxana looked vaguely regretful.

Gillian took several deep breaths and frowned at the queen, not even a little appeased. “You think?”

“Sarcasm can be very unpredictable in its outcome when used in a diplomatic setting.”

“So can inappropriately probing questions.”

“Touché.”

“I am not a gold digger.”