Page 55 of His Princess Brat
We approached the bar, and he paused his speech long enough to order a scotch, neat, while I took the opportunity to order a white wine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mazi and Azid approaching the bar to seat themselves at a round table near where Bethany happened to be sitting with Tamar and her father.
Tamping down an instant twinge of jealousy, I forced my attention back to Prince Osiris, who was staring at me with questioning eyes.
Rats. He must have said something and I hadn’t been listening. I hoped I hadn’t missed my own proposal.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I got distracted. Can you repeat the question?”
“Certainly. I inquired as to whether you’d had your monthly cycle.”
I almost dropped my drink. “I-I beg your pardon?” I didn’t realize my voice was rising until several people turned to stare.
I was sure Azid was one of them; I could feel his eyes boring into me from across the bar area. I forced myself to put a smile on my face. “I’m sorry, I beg your pardon?” I repeated, much more quietly this time.
“Your cycle. You know, your period.” Prince Osiris shrugged nonchalantly as if this were not an insanely personal inquiry to make during your first interaction with someone.
“That’s hardly your business,” I informed him with a huff.
“I beg to differ. You ordered wine in a public place, and certainly everyone here knows there is a possibility of you being with child. I simply wondered, for my own purposes, whether or not that had been confirmed negative or not.”
My cheeks grew hot. It physically hurt, trying to stop myself from just hauling off and punching him in the face, but I certainly wasn’t in the position to put myself in the center of yet another royal scandal. How sad was it that, despite his lack of social boundaries, I was still hoping for a marriage proposal before the night ended?
“It has not,” I replied. “But certainly, a glass of wine won’t do a bit of harm, particularly since it’s far too early to detect whether or not a pregnancy is even possible.”
“I suppose not.” He seemed to drop the subject and for that I was grateful. At least until I heard what came next out of his mouth.
“As I was saying,” he continued, plowing full steam ahead as if I weren’t still seething from his previous tactless question, “our families have done everything in their power to improve relations, but things are still rocky between Egypt and Bahar. If we hope for a peaceful future for our children, there really is only one foolproof course of action.”
Here it comes, I thought, holding my breath as I smiled through my indignation, and even batting my eyelashes a little.
“We need to get married.” That was it. No frills, no question asked, no talk of mutual benefits, just a cold calculated declaration.
I was still going to take it. I would have gone home with him tomorrow and been happy to do so if the pompous asshole had just quit while he was ahead. But he didn’t. He kept going.
“I’ll take care of you and be a good husband to you, no matter what, even if worst comes to worst, and we learn that that American gigolo friend of the king’s planted a bastard in your belly. I will give it my name and a decent allowance. It will not, of course, be able to inherit, but I will be good to it until, at the very least, it achieves an age where it will be appropriate to ship it off to boarding school.”
His speech was horrifying, and before he had delivered the final insult, I was ready to blow.
“It?” I echoed. “Ship it...?”
“The child,” Osiris supplied, as if he thought I must be slow not to have understood. “On the off chance that that irresponsible American has indeed planted a bastard in your belly. Make no mistake, I will see to its care, but I do not particularly care to reside under the same roof with what is, in fact, nothing more than my perpetual reminder that, for the good of my country, I am being forced to accept another man’s sloppy seconds for a wife.”
My eyes narrowed to slits, but before I could even react, the prince was hit with a blow to the right side of his face that knocked him off his feet. He fell over an empty chair, landing on the middle of Bethany’s table, squashing the elaborate floral arrangement that was the centerpiece and upsetting every bowl of soup and glass of water or wine on it. To my utter delight, who should get a lapful of water, wine, and soup but Bethany herself.
Erupting to her feet with a thick borscht staining the front of her lemon-colored dress, she looked from Osiris to me, and as if I were responsible, lunged straight at me.
“You!” she seethed, beet juice dripping from her furious face and clenched fists.
My fist was cocked before I even realized what I was doing. I would happily have ended what was left of this night and my reputation by knocking her on her ass too, but I was stopped by a huge hand clamping down on my wrist. Another shot out, clapping Bethany square on the chest and halting her advance.
“Not another step,” Azid warned, “or so help me, God, you’ll be next.”
Stumbling backward, Bethany stared at him with furiously disbelieving eyes. “You can’t talk to me like that!”
“I can,” Mazi interrupted, cool and calm, effectively silencing that entire ballroom, which had already fallen to absolute quiet. “You and your malicious tongue have disrupted my court about as much as I think I’m inclined to allow. Mr. Van Roijen.” Turning to Bethany’s frowning father, my cousin said, “Until your daughter learns how to behave like a proper lady, she will not be welcome back in Osei. Please remove her from my home and from my island.”
Bethany blanched, her jaw dropping.
His face ruddy with the embarrassment, the ambassador threw his napkin down and got up from the table. Collecting her by the arm, he dragged her from the ballroom without a word to anyone.
