Page 12 of Pregnant In The King's Palace

‘You really want that headline tomorrow, don’t you? The one saying you’ve lost your mind and are once again consorting with the help.’

‘I want nothing of the kind. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ll get it anyway. May as well go big.’

‘You are bitter.’

‘Don’t forget twisted. Either dance with me or walk away, Angelique. Either way it’ll make the news. You know that as well as I do.’

There was no humour in him. None. And again, concern for him plagued her. ‘What happened to you?’

‘I grew up. I’m growing old waiting to see if you’ll dance with me, as is customary given the seating arrangements imposed on us.’

‘One dance and done?’

‘One and done. If that’s what you want.’

‘What else would I want?’

So many eyes on them as she placed her hand on the sleeve of his dress jacket and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. By tomorrow the gossip columns would be full of stories about the Thallasian King, his broken engagement, and his childhood whore—that would be her—but she couldn’t care about that right now. All she cared about was making it through this dance without getting carried away by his nearness and his touch.

Some people danced stiffly or clumsily with one another. Some never quite meshed, unable to truly sink into the moment and just let go.

That had never been their problem.

His hand at her waist, warm and possessive. Her hand on his shoulder—no shoulder pads for him, just the seeping warmth of his skin beneath the finest of cloth. The brush of his hips, the huff of his breath against her hair as he dipped his head towards hers and they began to move. They’d never danced like this before, not formally, in a ballroom.

And still, it felt as if they’d already done it a thousand times over.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he murmured, and she faltered in her steps, causing him to step in closer to steady her. ‘My greatest fear has always been that no other woman would ever satisfy me the way you did.’

‘But they have.’ She tried to sound confident. ‘I’m sure.’

‘Don’t be so sure.’ His fingers tightened fractionally around hers and his cheek brushed hers. She could have sworn her heart was beating in time with his. ‘Want to run away with me, Angelique, while I turn my back on my family, my duty and my country?’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ But when she looked him in the eyes, she didn’t see a man who’d spoken teasing words. All she saw was a man in the deepest, darkest despair. ‘What’s wrong?’ She might not have spoken to him in years, but she’d watched him from afar and she could still pick up on his moods, heaven help her she could. ‘What’s going on?’

A touch of concern, the slightest bit of care. Angelique in his arms again and he was ready to spill all his secret hopes and fears. Same as he’d done all those years ago amongst the hay in the feed loft or the shadows of a stable door. They’d grown closer while dancing, because together they became magnetic. Spin one way and they would repel each other. Spin them the other and they became as one.

He was a breath away from crushing her lips beneath his, and only a lifetime of having courtly protocols beaten into him kept him in check. ‘I want to see you again.’

He wanted his hands on her and hers on him and the thought that she didn’t seem to want children shouldn’t have buoyed him as much as it did. But what if? What if he could now have this with her?

She stared at him as if searching for a catch. ‘Why now? Why, after a dozen years, am I suddenly of interest to you? Nothing has changed. You’re a king. I’m still me. And if you think I can’t tell there’s something else going on with you, you are sadly mistaken.’

She was too perceptive. Could read his moods better than he knew them himself. ‘I’m a free man and I’d like to get to know you again. Which part don’t you understand?’ The dancing spun to an end and Angelique stepped away, out of his arms with insulting swiftness.

‘I don’t understand any of it. And the answer’s no. You don’t know me. You never did.’

‘Your favourite wine was Spanish white, your favourite meal your mother’s seafood rice, and your father was the best horseman you’d ever seen and probably still is. I know what you told me, what you showed me back then. It was a gift I’ve not forgotten.’

‘You don’t smile any more,’ was what she said.

She could help with that. But first she had to want what he offered and nothing about her behaviour tonight suggested she did. Manners carried Valentine to the completion of their farce as he escorted her to the sidelines of the dance floor, bowed and took his leave. Let the gossip-mongers talk as he headed for the exit and the privacy of his guest rooms. Let him be taken to task for not dancing with other, more acceptable women. Let them say he was in thrall once more to the stable hand.

He didn’t care.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘DID YOU SEE THIS?’ Angelique’s brother, Carlos, sat in the courtyard of the royal quarters he shared with Prince Benedict of Liesendaach. Their quarters were situated on the ground floor of the west wing of the royal palace. Given that Angelique had been up with the dawn to tend polo ponies and was only now returning for breakfast, it was a fair call to say she had no idea what her brother was talking about.

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