“You know?” What did he know?
His gaze drifted to her stomach and then back to hers.
The dread of certainty filled her. But there was no way he could know she was pregnant. “Either tell me why you’re here, or have your drink and leave.”
“The baby.”
“How?” she demanded as any hope she’d felt got crushed under the reality of truth. Again.
He wasn’t here because he missed her too much to stay away. He wasn’t here for her at all.
“Demyan.”
“Demyan what? Bribed my doctor for information? But why would he?” None of this made any sense.
“He assigned typical post-relationship surveillance.”
“You had me followed?” she asked, sick at the thought of strangers watching her.
She’d never foreseen this particular complication to dating a prince. Particularly when they’d taken such care to keep their relationship out of the eyes of the media. She’d never even considered Maks would be the source of such invasive actions.
She should have, but she’d been blind to a lot about her time with Maks.
“I did not, though I should have. When were you going to tell me? Or did you plan to get revenge by not telling me at all?”
“What a stupid question. At what point during our time together did I ever give you the impression I thought it was acceptable to make children pay for the poor choices of their parents?”
*
The question hung between them like a gauntlet thrown down and Maks knew he had no place picking it up.
She was right. This woman was not motivated by revenge or negative feelings.
The fact she had any sort of a relationship at all as an adult with parents who had shamefully neglected her as a child was testament to the fact Gillian’s heart was more forgiving, not to mention tolerant, than most.
“I am sorry. That was uncalled for,” he admitted, though apologizing was not his forte and never had been. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Once I had gotten through the first trimester.”
“Surely you realize the sooner I knew and appropriate action could be taken, the better.”
“Appropriate action?” she asked, her expression completely closed to him for once.
“Marriage.” What else could they do?
“I see.”
She did not seem in the least excited at the prospect, though he was certain she had wanted nothing more than his proposal ten weeks ago.
Armed with the knowledge that she had not realized it was their last night together, he’d had time…much too much time…to go over that last night and the following morning in his head. The conclusions he had drawn were not all pleasant. Nor did they paint him in the best of lights from her perspective.
He comprehended that.
It almost made her action of calling for security that final morning understandable. Not entirely so, but almost. Such precipitous behavior would not be acceptable going forward, however.
No doubt his mother would explain things of that nature to a woman she would groom to take the position of queen one day.
At present, there was enough on the table for discussion without focusing on past behavior.
“You are taking a lot for granted, aren’t you?” she asked before he said anything else, or responded overtly to her noncommittal I see.
“My child will be heir to the throne of Volyarus.” Surely she understood that.
Gillian’s bright blue eyes lit with challenge. “Even a girl?”
“Yes. The monarchy passes to the oldest child of the monarch, male or female does not matter.”
“How progressive.”
“Not really. Many monarchies have no masculine stipulation for title bequeathal.”
“Really? I didn’t know.” She dropped the popcorn she’d picked up back into the bowl and pushed her milk glass two inches to the right.
Maks admitted, “My father’s generation could have stood to be more progressive.”
“What do you mean?” Gillian asked.
“The business and political roles have always been shared amidst the siblings of the ruling family. My father was not open to having his sister’s help in running Yurkovich Tanner.”
“Oh.” Clearly Gillian had expected him to say something else.
“His attitude toward provision of an heir is also archaic.” His father had married his mother for the sole sake of children, because the woman he loved could not provide them.
They had ended up with a single child and no accord.
“Yes, it is.”
Even though he’d voiced the criticism himself, having Gillian agree so quickly pricked at Maks’s pride and sense of familial loyalty. However, he refrained from making excuses for his father.
“You look tired.” She looked completely exhausted.
“I am.”
“What is the matter?”
“Nothing. Apparently it’s a normal part of pregnancy.”
He did not like that answer at all. He needed information on pregnancy from someone with specialized knowledge. That was clear.
“There is as much as a twenty percent chance this pregnancy will not be viable.” She spoke in a monotone, so at first her words did not sink in. “That number goes down to three percent once the baby makes it past twelve weeks.”
The imperative to consult with an expert grew astronomically. “What? Why is the risk so high?”
“Apparently miscarriage is a lot more common than you’d expect.” The casual tone of her words was belied by the tense line of Gillian’s shoulders.
“My child will not miscarry.”
Gillian shook her head, her expression mocking. “You don’t have much to say about it.”
“I do not believe that. There must be something we can do.”
“I’m doing it. I take a highly soluble prenatal vitamin and folic acid. I’ve switched my exercise regime to one approved for pregnant women. I’ve given up caffeine and alcohol, though my doctor says I can indulge in both in small quantities. I do nothing to put undue stress on my womb.” Determination darkened her blue eyes.
“You want this child.” The jury was still very much out on whether or not she wanted him, but Maks had no doubts Gillian wanted their child.
“More than you could possibly understand. I plan to be an exemplary mother.”
“Your grandmother set a high standard to follow.” And Gillian’s mother had shown his former lover just exactly what she did not want to be as a parent.
An almost smile curved Gillian’s lips and she warmed infinitesimally toward him. “Yes, Nana did.”
“She must be excited about the baby.” It bothered him that someone else knew about their child before he had.
He recognized the reaction as unreasonable, but that did not diminish his feeling of disappointment.
“I have not told her.”
That shocked him. Gillian told her grandmother everything. She’d been willing to keep their dating out of the public eye, but not her family’s. He had met her grandparents and gone through a grilling unlike anything he’d experienced before as a Crown Prince.
Neither of the older Harrises had treated him like royalty and he’d actually enjoyed it.
Gillian had even met his own mother on a few social occasions as well.
So, why keep the news of the baby from her grandmother? Because Gillian wasn’t married?
“I don’t think your grandmother would judge you for getting pregnant before the wedding, Gillian.”
“She’s more old-fashioned than you realize. Who do you think pushed the issue of my parents marrying to legitimize my birth?”
Which might well make her grandmother his best ally. He filed that bit of information away for later use if need be.
“I’m not telling anyone about the baby until I’ve made it past my twelfth week,” Gillian offered in explanation.
She was taking the possibility of miscarriage very seriously. “You ne
ed to stop thinking in this negative way.”
“I’m not thinking negatively. I’m being realistic.”
He did not agree. “Realistic is you are pregnant and we must determine how best to react to that truth.”
Gillian’s general air of tired pessimism morphed into anger faster than he could track.
She glared fiercely. “I’m reacting to it just fine.”
For the entire eight months they had dated, he’d been convinced of Gillian’s practical nature. However, that final night had shown a romantic streak he should have guessed at from the beginning.
She earned her living predominately doing photography for the covers of romance novels. Gillian was far too good at it not to be at least a closet romantic, no matter how well she tried to hide it.