Page 50 of Pregnant In The King's Palace

Angelique had never been so happy.

Valentine, on the other hand, was tugging her in the wrong direction. ‘Where are we going?’

‘The hunting lodge.’

‘Now?’ She was all for surprises but there was a perfectly good turret and a king’s bedroom two storeys up in the other direction. It had candles and chocolates and champagne and white bedding in it. A vase stood ready for her wedding bouquet and her bridal nightgown had been set out in all its glory in his dressing room. She’d arranged everything.

‘The hunting lodge is all set up for our wedding night.’ His grin promised a good one. ‘Palace staff have been there all afternoon getting it ready. There are no stuffed monkeys anywhere in it, I promise.’

His staff had clearly been very, very busy, what with getting two places ready. They really had to work on co-ordinating their surprises.

She walked with him through the palace doors and nearest gardens. Two horses stood waiting at the edge of the herb garden, one of them with what looked like a whole carrot plant in its mouth and a garland made of flowers around her neck.

She knew that horse as she knew her own reflection.

It was her favourite mare. The one Valentine had ridden so successfully a few months back. The first of her first string of polo ponies that she’d sold to Enrique. The other horse was big and black, a stallion, Thallasian bred, no question.

‘She’s yours again, with Enrique’s blessing,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘But is she faster than my fastest stallion? That’s the question.’

This gorgeous, generous man in front of her was hers, and she was his.

And the journey beckoned.

EPILOGUE

HE WAS NEVER having sex again. The fact that he’d said this aloud in a birthing room filled with far too many people...okay, four other people...meaning Angelique, Luciana, a midwife and a royal physician, as well as him, served only to show him how truly panicked he was. Because King Valentine of Thallasia was a cool, calm and considered monarch, not prone to blurting out the first thought to enter his head. Even if he was currently sitting behind Angelique, on a birthing bed, so as to provide a bulwark for her to lean on and hands for her to crush every time the midwife said push.

‘I swear—'

‘No swearing in front of the babies,’ Angelique’s twin said cheerfully, although he noted a certain tenseness around Lucia’s eyes that suggested she wasn’t exactly unaffected by the longest labour in the world either. ‘What do you think, Angelique? Do you intend to hold him to the no-sex-ever-again plan?’

Angelique looked up at him, long strands of silky black hair sticking to her neck and forehead. Escapees from the plait she’d pulled her hair back into several decades ago.

It sure as hell felt like several decades ago.

‘I mean, it could be the only thing he has going for him,’ Luciana added, wicked to the end, but if it made Angelique smile—which it did—he would forgive her twin the overreach.

‘No sniping,’ Angelique told them.

‘But it keeps me sane.’ Luciana strode to the business end of things, took one look, paled, and walked briskly back to her sister’s side.

‘I agree. It’s our thing. The bedrock on which we base our friendship,’ he added. Anything to avoid thinking about what might be happening, or not happening, and he just wanted someone to do something to ease Angelique’s pain. ‘Take the sniping away and we’ll be mute.’ He played his part, silently scanning Luciana’s face for reassurance she couldn’t give.

He had no idea what was happening other than his wife was in pain and had been for an eternity.

‘Okay, mama,’ the midwife said from way down where he was never going again. ‘This is the one. Imagine the rolling waves pushing the little seashell further up the sandy beach each time. Gentle rolling waves, and if a big fat wave comes along, don’t fight it, go with it, because it’s going to push that little seashell right to your feet.’

Possibly not the best time to remind the woman that this was a landlocked country or mention that the river running beneath the castle was a ferocious, tumultuous beast with a history of being used for punishment. Besides, Angelique’s homeland had azure beaches, gentle waves and sunshine, so who was he to deny her the pretty imagery? Whatever worked, right? Because something had to work for her soon. They’d been at this for over twelve hours already.

He couldn’t take much more.

‘Deep breath,’ said the midwife suddenly, and there was an air of command in her voice that had never been there before. ‘Hold it... And push hard, now!’

Angelique pushed, her teeth clenched and her eyes tightly closed, as if directing all her energy southward. Too tense, the midwife had told her when they were only a couple of hours in. Still tense, he thought, and trying to stay in control.

‘I’ll roar if you will,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll start.’ Who cared if the first noise his children heard was their father screaming for them to come out and face his wrath for giving their mother such a hard birthing time?

He was a protective man. Very.

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