Page 38 of Pregnant In The King's Palace

And wasn’t that the long and short of it?

‘Right, well.’ Vala clapped her hands as if to banish the heavy sorrow in the air. ‘Leaving the paperwork and wedding plans aside, for now, let’s bring a medical team in to examine both of you, shall we?’

‘Not the usual ones,’ Valentine warned her, and her schoolmarmish expression softened.

‘I quite agree. Not the same set of incompetent, addle-headed buffoons you dealt with before—of that I’m sure.’

They believed her. Oh, he hadn’t at first, but here he was now willing to marry her before he was even sure the baby was his and that had to count for something, didn’t it?

Vala turned towards her. ‘Angelique, I’ll have a room made up for you—’

‘She’s staying with me.’

‘I thought I’d head back to the manor.’ Might as well put it out there as an option.

‘I don’t think you quite understand.’ Valentine’s voice came hard and implacable enough for her to glance up, only to be immediately ensared by his unfathomable black gaze. ‘Until you sign that piece of paper, you’re not going anywhere.’

Dinner was served in Valentine’s quarters. A succulent roast with tender roasted vegetables and delicately buttered beans. Angelique barely ate any of it. Valentine’s impeccable manners ruled every interaction, no sign whatsoever of the playful, laughing man who felt comfortable enough with her to truly let his guard down. No wryly revealing comments about the global news of the day. No snippets of personal information, sparingly spoken, but she’d hoarded them carefully and when bundled together they’d revealed a picture of a smart, passionate man with a deeply playful streak that he only allowed close friends and family to see.

Painstakingly built over that deeply private core was an impenetrable public persona of stern politeness, and it was this he showed her now. Asking her how her food was and did she need any additional fixings. Opting against having a glass of wine himself because she was not drinking or for some other reason he didn’t care to share with her. Mentioning how pleased he was with Girar, the horse she’d delivered for his niece. Saying out of the blue, ‘You’re good with children.’

It was enough to make her fork clatter against the fine bone-china porcelain of the plate, and she winced, and muttered sorry, because clearly her table talk and manners were no match for his, and she couldn’t read him at all. He probably had no idea what she was thinking either and it was all so wrong that she wanted to weep.

‘Will you show me that place where you swam, earlier?’ she asked after dinner, and it was partly because she wanted to get out of his suite and partly because walking, or swimming, might give them something to do besides brood and grow ever more distant with each passing minute.

She’d never been more grateful for the massive vastness of palaces as he led her down through the levels, past the storage cellars in the kitchen and lower still until they came to a door that pushed inwards into deep inky blackness. The flick of a switch revealed dozens of wall sconces, a long and skinny natural cave, and a turbulent, fast-flowing river running from one end of it to the other, entering through huge iron grills that someone small enough could probably pass through. Rough-hewn steps led to and from each end of the pool, only it wasn’t like any pool she’d ever seen, it was a torrent. ‘This is where you swim?’

‘It’s more appealing on a good day.’ He stood to one side of her, watching the water. ‘Some days it can be quite gentle.’

‘Are there things in it? Fish?’ Sharks... Bodies... Lost city of Atlantis...

He shrugged.

‘And you swim in this? Just to be clear.’

He ran his hand around the back of his neck and shrugged again. ‘I was six the first time my father brought me here. It was two days after my mother had died and I was too quiet and withdrawn for his liking. He told me to strip down to underwear and took me to the edge of those steps over there. Said she was dead but I was still alive and he would have no more moping from me and that I needed to toughen up. He said swim. And he pushed me in.’

She gasped. Couldn’t help but cover her mouth.

‘It was worse than it is now and by the time I’d surfaced I was halfway down the cave. I tried swimming to the side but ended up pinned against the exit grid before I got there. It was hell getting over to the steps and out of the water but I did it, and then I lay there on my back and I laughed, with my body full of endorphins, and I laughed, because it was either that or cry and I sure as hell didn’t want to be thrown in again. My father seemed pleased with me.’

He couldn’t be serious.

But he was.

And Angelique bit her lip and with it her horrified protest and tried her best to understand this complex, deeply wounded King.

‘My father thought he was toughening me up. From my perspective, I’d discovered a whole new way to deal with emotions that were too big for me to hold inside. Grief, rage, isolation. A boy in a towering temper went into the water at that end, got pummelled by fear, and came out the other end calm again with all those dark, destructive emotions washed away.’

‘That’s horrific.’ She had to say it.

‘Works for me.’ He straightened and turned to look her dead in the eye. ‘I’m sorry I reacted badly to your news. That’s not who I want to be.’

Such honesty demanded an equally honest reply. ‘As a child my passions ruled me completely. I was so highly strung that sometimes my presence alone could upset the horses. The number of times my father ordered me out of the stables to go and sit on that rock till I’d cleared my mind...’ She shook her head, remembering. ‘But meditation never completely worked for me, and I doubt your river swims will either. Right now I have all these feelings churning around inside me with nowhere to go. The thought of marrying you scares me. I’d be such a liability.’ She turned away, couldn’t even hold his gaze.

And then he stepped up behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his chest through the layers of his clothes and hers. His hands settled lightly on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing faint circles into the back of her neck. Too tentative for a massage. His touch had never been tentative before and it was just one more reminder of the way things had changed with the creation of a child.

Where was the joy?

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