“He was merely being polite. The fault is mine.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Emmeline ignored the jab. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you—”
“When haven’t you?”
“—and will try to make amends.”
“Good. At least we agree on something. You are to return to Raguva immediately and beg His Highness for forgiveness. Do whatever it is you must do, but do not return without his ring on your finger—”
“I can’t.”
“Emmeline, it’s not an option. It’s your duty to marry him. Your duty to provide heirs for him—”
“I can’t, Mother. I’m already pregnant.”
The grand salon, coolly elegant in white and gold, went strangely silent. For a moment there was no sound, no motion, and then her mother sank into her chair by her father’s side.
Finally her mother’s head tipped. “What did you just say, Emmeline?”
Emmeline glanced at her father, who, so far, hadn’t said a word. True to form he sat silent and grim, letting her mother do all the talking. “I … I’m…” She drew a deep breath. “…nearly eight weeks pregnant.”
“Please tell me I heard you wrong.” Her mother’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“I wish I could.” Emmeline’s voice sounded faint to her own ears.
“And of course it’s not Zale Patek’s.”
“No.”
“Slut.”
Emmeline heard Makin hiss a breath, but she didn’t even flinch. She’d expected this. Had known it wouldn’t be pleasant. And it wasn’t.
“How dare you?” Claire choked on the words. “You ungrateful girl! How dare you throw every good thing we have done for you back in our faces?”
Emmeline felt rather than heard Makin move to her side. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? You ruin your chances, you ruin us, and you’re sorry?”
Emmeline lifted her chin, determined to stay calm, determined to remain strong. Tears would serve no purpose, just make her look weak and emotional. Instead she’d accept the consequences, no matter how painful. It’d been her decision to sleep with Alejandro. Now she had to deal with the repercussions. “Yes. And while this is the last thing I wanted to happen, it has, and I’m going to take responsibility.”
“And may I ask who the father is? Or is that secret knowledge?”
Emmeline’s lips parted but Makin spoke first.
“I am,” he said clearly, his deep voice firm.
Emmeline turned to face him, jaw dropping in shock, but he didn’t even look at her. He was staring straight at her mother, a snarl twisting his lips. “I am,” he repeated fiercely, “and I would like a little bit of respect, please.”
Emmeline’s legs turned to jelly, even as her head spun. She reached for Makin. “What are you doing?” she choked, as his fingers curled around hers.
“Making this right,” he growled.
She shook her head frantically. “It won’t… it won’t, trust me.”
“No. It’s time you trusted me.” And then with a small, hard smile in her parents’ direction, he walked Emmeline out and closed the doors behind him.
In the hall Emmeline’s legs threatened to give out. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” she said, holding his arm tightly.
“Yes.” He frowned at her. “You’re feeling faint, aren’t you?”
“A little.”
He swore beneath his breath and swung her into his arms. “I should not have brought you back!”
“But you did. Now, put me down. I’ll be fine in a moment.”
He ignored her, exiting the hall for the grand foyer with the blue-painted dome, and began to climb the stairs two at a time.
“Makin, please. I can walk.”
“Not going to have you faint and risk having you, or the baby, hurt,” he answered, continuing up the marble steps with single-minded focus. “Isn’t your room up here somewhere?”
“On the second floor, yes. But I won’t faint—”
“Good.” He shifted her weight in his arms as he reached the top stair. “Right or left?”
She peeked over his shoulder, saw the familiar hall with ivory-painted woodwork, gleaming chandeliers overhead and the pale gold-and-ivory carpet runner underfoot. “Right. But I can walk—”
“Fantastic. Which room?”
“That one,” she said, nodding at a closed door. “And you didn’t need to claim the baby. I was going to tell them the truth.”