Page 4 of Pregnant In The King's Palace

He was the firstborn son of a king. He couldn’t afford to love as he would. He knew this.

Angelique knew it too. They’d talked about what he could offer her and it wasn’t much. She was the wrong nationality and moreover she worked for a living. Her education was sorely lacking. He would one day marry a well-bred daughter of Thallasia—bonus points if she had political ties the monarchy could use to advantage. Such was the family firm he’d been born to. They knew this. Accepted it. They weren’t playing for keeps.

They were just playing.

Her favourite city was Salamanca. Her favourite meal was her mother’s paella marinera. There was nothing in this world he craved more than the time they spent together, learning how to please her. Her uninhibited cries as he devoured her. The clench and release of her pleasure.

He knew he was neglecting his regular duties. This reckless abandon had to stop before he handed Angelique Cordova the keys to his heart and soul in addition to the ones to his body.

But he didn’t say this had to end as Angelique rolled out of his embrace and started putting on her clothes, chiding him to do the same because they had to get back because she’d be missed if they were late. As it was, they’d have to hurry back, and Alessandro the stable master would know it due to the lather of the horses.

‘Race you,’ he challenged, and she took him at his word. Always the unruly stallion for her and the well-behaved mare for him. Alessandro could overlook many things but risking the Crown Prince’s neck on an unreliable horse was not one of them.

Race you and you’re on, with the scent of her drying on his skin.

His father was waiting for them.

CHAPTER ONE

KING VALENTINE OF THALLASIA was a wanted man. His royal blood, his country’s wealth and his striking looks made sure of that. He’d been angelically pretty as a child and an unrepentantly precocious teen. There’d been a time in his twenties when his reckless reputation had kept all but the most experienced women at bay. At twenty-eight he’d become engaged to a perfectly presentable, blue-blooded heiress with many fine qualities. He’d been pressured to appear steady and ready to ascend the throne in the face of his father’s failing health, she’d been present, and he’d liked her well enough. She’d ticked all the boxes his palace courtiers had wanted her to tick. Well bred, well educated, well versed when it came to mixing with the high-born and observing royal protocol. Above all, she’d made him look good.

He’d broken their three-year engagement last night, and the pity had rolled off her in waves as she’d handed back his mother’s ring, kissed his cheek and told him to take care. His former beloved had asked that he wait a day before announcing their split in order to give her time to return to her father’s private estate. She didn’t want to deal with the media and their questions, she’d said. Given the delicacy of the information he might or might not want to reveal, she much preferred to leave the details to him.

He’d yet to decide if her actions had been cowardly or merciful.

Either way she was gone, and the charity polo weekend in the kingdom of Liesendaach was in full swing. He could have gone home this morning, citing some fictitious royal crisis or other, and his host and childhood friend, King Theodosius, would have understood. Instead, he’d chosen to stay on alone, and Theo, as if sensing a ripple in the ether, was sticking close.

They’d managed to find a relatively private spot to watch the current polo match—a cue for a private conversation. Theo had doubtless engineered the moment and Valentine wondered with dark amusement just how long Theo would hold back his questions. Perhaps a pre-empt was in order. It was that or compliment the man on his beautiful gardens and immaculately kept playing fields, and Theo had probably heard that a dozen times already this morning. Of all the four kingdoms in the land, Theo’s palace was the prettiest. The fussiest, King Casimir of Byzenmaach often called it with a sly grin. Pretentious, King Augustus of Arun would murmur, joining in. Fact was, their palaces were grey, gloomy and austere in comparison. And for all the improvements he’d made to his palace lately, it was still no match for Theo’s. ‘I’m no longer betrothed.’

Theo didn’t so much as blink. ‘I figured as much when your former intended made her apologies this morning and left before breakfast, her fingers bare. My condolences. I liked her well enough.’

‘Faint praise.’

‘I never thought you liked her well enough.’ Theo shrugged and turned to watch the play. ‘So what’s next?’

Good question. Great question. But further confession seemed to stick in his throat and stay there.

Silence fell between them after that. The assessing looks his childhood friend kept shooting him made the imaginary bullseye between his shoulders twitch. ‘Out with it,’ he demanded after one twitch too many. ‘I know that look. You’re plotting.’

‘Not plotting,’ Theo denied smoothly. ‘Just thinking.’

‘About what?’

‘Do you realise that you and Angelique Cordova never get within a hundred feet of each other? Is that choreographed? Do you practise?’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Valentine knew exactly what Theo was talking about, he simply wasn’t about to admit it. ‘Although I do note, with casual interest, just how close you’ve become to the Cordova family of late.’

‘Moriana has taken Angelique and her sister Luciana under her wing.’

‘Is that wise?’ Valentine had never quite forgiven Theo for dallying with both Angelique and Luciana Cordova a few years back. Rumour had it they’d regularly taken turns dating him. Rumour had it they’d bet Theo’s cousin, Benedict, a horse that Theo would never notice the difference. Rumour had it they’d won that bet. ‘Letting your wife befriend your former mistresses?’

Theo’s gaze sharpened. ‘That would be very unwise. Good thing I claim no such intimacy with either Cordova twin. No, it’s a simple matter of indulging my wife. Moriana finds them refreshing.’

Valentine snorted. He still thought putting the ruthlessly efficient Queen Consort Moriana together with the flagrantly wilful and rebellious Cordova twins was courting disaster. What if they decided to co-operate? They’d rule the world...or at the very least, this part of it. ‘It’s your catastrophe.’

‘You have a quarrel with Angelique? Is that why you avoid her so diligently?’

‘I don’t avoid her.’ He simply didn’t go out of his way to encounter her. ‘I have no quarrel with any of the Cordovas. They breed exceptionally fine horses and I envy your ability to get your hands on them.’ The waiting list for a Cordova polo pony was ten years long. If you hailed from Thallasia, you were never going to get one.

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