“Elizabeth. Marry me.” It might not have been the most romantic proposal in the world, but it wasn’t as if they were in love or anything. This was strictly a necessity in his eyes, to give his child a name.
“No, thank you.” She spoke as calmly as if she were declining a second helping at a meal. She slipped her hands free of his and linked them together at her waist.
There was a long, taut silence while his brain processed the fact that she’d refused his offer. She’d refused him! Summoning a calm tone that he was proud matched her cool little voice, he said, “No, thank you? Any possibility you’d expand on that?”
She hesitated. “You do me a great honor with your offer,” she said formally, politely, not meeting his eyes. “But I have no wish to marry solely to provide a family unit for this child. You and I lead very different lives.”
“That we do,” he said grimly, annoyed at the way she’d reduced his proposal to a mere matter of convenience, conveniently ignoring the fact that he’d done exactly the same thing a few minutes ago. “And there’s no way I’m ever going back overseas, not for you, not for anyone.”
“I didn’t ask you to!” Her tone wasn’t so calm anymore. Pivoting, she flounced to the other side of the counter and stood staring out the window with her back to him.
The unspoken dismissal broke the thin threads by which he’d been holding together his temper. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, if I’d fall into line like a good little subject and—”
She whirled. “If you were a good little subject, you’d be even more objectionable than you are now!”
“Well, you aren’t exactly my first choice, either.” Her belligerent words had stung. “My plan was to marry a home-grown American girl who doesn’t have a drop of blue blood or aspirations to a title when I was good and ready. A princess doesn’t exactly fill the bill.”
“Good!” Her face was flushed, and unless he was mistaken, her eyes held the sheen of tears. “Then you have no problem accepting that you did the honorable thing and proposed and I chose to decline.”
“Fine!” He was as mad as she was now. Then he thought about what he’d just said. “Hold it. Not fine. My child isn’t going to be born a bastard.”
Her brows snapped together. “That’s a nasty word and I don’t appreciate you applying it to our child.”
“Why not? Other people will.”
One of the tears that had been swimming around in her eyes broke the dam and spilled down her cheek. “They wouldn’t dare.”
“Of course they would. You know how people love good gossip. Just imagine the fodder an illicit liaison between royals of Wynborough and Thortonburg would provide them—” The look on her face stopped him mid-sentence.
A moment of silence as pregnant as the woman before him hung in the air between them.
“You weren’t going to tell them, were you?” A part of him wondered why it bothered him so much. After all, it would get him out of an inconvenient marriage and ensure that he didn’t get sucked back into his father’s title-seeking sphere again. But a bigger part of him rejected the idea that his child wouldn’t bear his name.
“You weren’t even going to tell them,” he accused again. “You planned to go home to Wynborough with this baby in your belly and never tell your parents who the father was, didn’t you?”
“Why not? It makes sense.” Her face was still flushed with anger. “Neither of us wants to marry the other. You weren’t planning on becoming a father now. There’s no reason to involve yourself in my life.”
“No reason?” He was so mad, he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her. “You’re going to bear my child in a matter of months. My child. Not that of some anonymous man who you can dismiss for his rather negligible role in the conception.” He stalked around the counter until he was only inches from her, leaning forward to speak right into her startled, defiant face. “This baby is going to be legitimate if I have to tie you up and f
ly to Las Vegas for a quickie wedding.”
Her eyes rounded. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” he invited. “And while I’m at it, I’ll get on the telephone and call your parents. I’m sure your father would be pleased to know I’d done the right thing by you.”
Her face drained of color. “You can’t tell my parents,” she said. She half turned away from him. “This baby can’t be—” She stopped abruptly and put a hand out toward the counter, and he saw her sway. “I feel…” He didn’t wait for any more. He’d never seen anyone faint, and he wasn’t going to start now. Taking a half step that brought him to her side, he drew her into his arms.
She gave a startled squeak that trailed off into a moan, but she didn’t fight him, merely laid her head against his chest. After a moment, he led her into the living room and laid her on the couch, then placed a pillow under her feet.
She moaned again, but this time there was an element of relief in the sound. The band of tension squeezing his throat relaxed marginally and he nudged her over gently to make space to perch beside her.
“Can I get you anything?” His voice was deep with concern, and he didn’t care if she noticed.
“No, I’ll be all right.” She groped for his hand. “Just— don’t go.”
Her small fingers found his and clung, and he was astonished by the force of the emotion that roared through him. His throat grew tight again and he had to clear it roughly before he squeezed her fingers and said, “I’m right here.”
Long moments passed. He watched her closely. Her eyes were closed, dark silky lashes lying soft against her cheeks, and gradually a hint of pink crept back to replace her pallor. Her clutch on his hand lessened. Even so, he made no move to release her.