Page 15 of Pregnant In The King's Palace

‘We’re used to it.’

‘Doesn’t mean you have to like it.’

‘Can’t imagine you like it much either.’ Carlos shrugged. A tall, wiry man, he had the beauty of face for which the Cordovas were famed and an air of calm that his sisters definitely lacked. Given that he’d taken up with Benedict, Prince of Liesendaach, and yet another temperamental diva, Valentine had to assume that other people’s fireworks bothered him not. ‘Angelique’s convinced that if she gives you her mare to ride you’ll score a dozen goals and show everyone you’re more than the sum of that interview. Then she’s going to rip you a new one for not being honest with her about your problems.’

The other man’s words set Valentine back some. There was a lot to unpack and no time to do it in. ‘I have no problems.’

‘Ride well, Your Majesty.’

Angelique met him halfway across the stable yard, a stunning grey mare walking alongside her. The horse had keen, intelligent eyes and stood ready to ride. ‘This is Armonía,’ she said by way of greeting. ‘It means Harmony in Spanish. She’s fast on the turn and fearless when riding to the shoulder. She’ll play best at number two, but so do you. I think you’ll do well together.’

‘Your brother says you’re angry with me.’ She met his gaze and smiled, tight and hard. ‘It wasn’t my intention to put you in the headlines again.’

‘I couldn’t care less what they say about me. Is it true you can no longer sire children?’

He nodded, just once. Which was more than anyone else had got from him on the subject.

‘Do you have sperm frozen somewhere that you can use? Semen straws like we do for horses?’

‘I’m not a horse, Angel. And, no, I put nothing aside. My mistake.’

‘Could you adopt a child?’

‘No.’ He was a king, with all that his royal bloodline entailed. Why raise a child to understand the monarchy when they could never fully be part of it? ‘I’m not that cruel.’ Fatherhood of any kind was beyond him now. He was dealing with it. Not well, but still. ‘If you pity me, I will never forgive you.’

‘Why would I pity you? You’re still a king, with access to untold wealth and resources. Still prettier than every other man here.’ She waved an arm around as if to reduce all others in the vicinity to nothing. ‘Still sexually functional—’ his eyebrows rose ‘—I assume. Still desired by many, many women who would become your Queen and forgo having children. Still an ass, but let’s not go there. I can be an ass too, given that I thought for a while that you might be turning your attentions to me once more because you figured you’d fallen so far in everyone’s estimation why not consort with the help? Then I realised you hadn’t actually made a move on me last night and then I got angry all over again because I couldn’t tempt you, even when you were feeling unworthy. You can see my dilemma.’

‘Er...’

‘You can’t see my dilemma? Probably for the best.’ Her smile mocked him.

‘About the horse...’

‘Ah, yes. She needs to warm up. You need to get used to her. I suggest you check your towering self-pity at the door and get on with it. You can still ride, can’t you?’

‘What towering self-pity?’

‘You can’t see it? Rest assured, everyone else can. Tell your detractors to eat dirt and that you’re staying on the throne because you’re brilliant at what you do. Tell your people your twin sister has several children and the royal bloodline is secure and the necessary changes will be made as to who will rule next. And then love as you will.’

If only everything were that simple. ‘You’d make a terrible royal adviser.’

She tossed her head, a picture of defiance. ‘I’m much better with horses, this is true.’

She’d made him smile—and given the morning he’d had this was quite an accomplishment. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what? Giving bad advice?’ She waved him away. ‘Go. Go make my horse look good.’

The Angelique of his youth had been naïve, too trusting and wholly ignorant of the life he was being trained to. This one was jaded, politically aware and brutally honest—with herself as well as him. She was magnificent. ‘I will.’

She nodded, once. ‘Might make you look good too.’

Angelique made a point of watching every game in which Cordova horses played. She didn’t trust second-hand accounts of the play and considered her presence a business requirement rather than a pleasure. Some games were excruciating to watch, like the one yesterday, but this game was different. Competitive, professional, sportsmanlike and thrilling.

Valentine, infertile King of Thallasia, rode as if he’d ridden her mare for years. Strong. Confident. Devastatingly effective. Merciless against his opposition, and beneath it all the skill to keep his mount safe and engaged, rested when the opportunity arose and all too willing when riding for goal. Even Lucia clapped his latest goal, appreciation for his skill outweighing years of dislike.

‘You’re clapping him,’ Angelique observed with outright astonishment.

‘I can’t help it. Did you see that goal? He rides like you.’

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