Page 10 of Pregnant In The King's Palace

‘No. That’s not going to work for me. I’m feeling reckless, you see.’ Reckless, cornered and somewhat defeated. It wasn’t a good combination. He bowed like the good little Courtier King he was. ‘Get a move on, Luciana, and send your sister to me. You’re in the wrong seat.’

She left without further comment.

CHAPTER THREE

ANGELIQUE WATCHED FROM afar as Queen Consort Moriana waylaid the grumpy King of Thallasia. Valentine was ready to leave, anyone with a discerning eye could see that. She spared a glance for Luciana, who was gliding back towards the seat Angelique currently occupied. So much for the last-minute sister-swap agreement. Angelique hastily excused herself and rose to meet Lucia halfway. As always, they drew glances, especially once they stood together. Heated gazes grew longer and more covetous as she and Lucia became those women—the beautiful, untameable Cordova twins with their Spanish blood and fierce tempers and faces that could make poets weep. Scorned by most women and desired by so many men, and she was used to it, had taken the stereotype imprinted on her and turned it into a weapon. But God help her she was tired of wielding it. ‘What happened?’

‘Your handsome King is in a very bad mood. Being denied what he wants doesn’t seem to agree with him.’

‘What does he want?’

‘You. And I don’t think running away is going to do anything but rouse his hunting instinct. You need to shut him down, turn him away, and there is no time like now. Come, we shall both walk over and pretend to be up to our old twin tricks again. We shall be infamous for daring to fool yet another king, and then I shall draw the lovely Moriana away and you’ll take your seat and be charmingly indifferent. And then we’ll go home and rethink how invested in Carlos’ new world we want to be. I for one could use a change of scenery.’ She bared her teeth at a nearby ogler. ‘Keep your eyes in your head, Grandpa. You can’t afford us.’

‘That’s definitely not going to help,’ murmured Angelique as she steered her sister away from the old man’s impending apoplexy. It took a while for her and Lucia to reach their targets. Along the way they collected a retired opera star who couldn’t wear enough diamonds to fully cover her papered, wrinkly flesh, but by heaven she tried, and Angelique respected that. And then somehow the opera Grand Dame, Queen Consort Moriana, Lucia and Angelique all ended up in a standing circle with a glowering Valentine, while they peppered the space with smiles and laughter and airy greetings. Social lubrication at its finest.

‘Finally, my seat,’ she said to the older man standing awkwardly across the table from her. ‘I was quite caught up on the other side of the room until my sister came for me.’

‘He knows you’re lying.’ It was Valentine’s voice in her ear. Valentine who pulled out her chair and then deliberately seated himself, forcing all those around him to sit. ‘He’s simply too polite to say so.’

The others wandered away, still mingling, bright birds picking up scattered seed, and it was well done, the social efforts that had detained a king and allowed him time to settle once more to the part expected of him.

He turned to study her, his gaze an almost tangible press against her soul and skin. ‘I didn’t think you’d come.’

‘Well, you were about to leave before the meal had even begun. I could have been blamed, as I so often am when there’s a scandal in the making. And rather than see all my fine work infiltrating Theo’s court go to waste, I decided to co-operate. So here I am. Honoured to be dining at your side. I’ll try to remember to use the right fork.’

He hurt her eyes with all his finery. The medals. The sash. And on his finger a heavy-looking gold ring that she’d never seen up close. The royal signet ring of Thallasia, once worn by his father and now worn by him.

The King.

His face was formidable, not a trace of the boy she’d once known so well in the hard planes of his cheek and jaw. No sign of laughter in his fathomless black eyes. But then, rumour had it he had little to smile about. ‘I hear you no longer have a fiancée—is that true?’

‘Correct.’

‘My condolences.’ Nope, she didn’t sound even the slightest bit sincere, and his raised eyebrow told her he’d clocked it too. Jealousy was a chore, but in for a penny... ‘The two of you were so photogenic together. All her pale, aristocratic reserve and your brutal indifference. Who’d have thought it wouldn’t last?’

His eyes glinted pure and heady challenge. ‘I’m sure some of us must have had our doubts. But enough about me. Are you seeing anyone?’

‘Several someones, as always.’ Never mind that her workday reality begged to differ. She saw a lot of people every day. And dated none of them.

‘Name them. Or do you prefer them married, and are thus unable to speak their names?’

‘No, you’re thinking of Lucia. I prefer them generous, open, and laughing.’ She paused while a waiter whisked away the half-filled water glass in front of her and a full one took its place. The moment he left, another attendant offered wine. She chose the white and murmured her thanks. ‘I also prefer them not ashamed to be seen with me. Guess that rules you out.’

‘Not at all.’ He leaned back in his chair, his attention all for her. ‘We’re here in public right now. And there are many eyes upon us.’

‘Probably because you want to make a new headline to overshadow your failed engagement and broken heart. And while I’m sure our salacious past and my wild reputation could help you there, I’m not feeling generous enough to accommodate you. I have no taste for the public feeding frenzy that would descend once you cast me aside. Again.’

‘I might keep you this time.’

‘You couldn’t afford me.’

He countered with a look that suggested he could probably afford just about anything. ‘You never know. What is it you want?’

‘Your heart in my hands, bloody and dripping.’

‘Ah.’ He almost smiled. ‘Revenge. I can work with that.’

‘No, you can’t. And as flattered as I am to have been seated next to you this evening—was that your idea?’

---