Page 5 of Pregnant By the Wrong Prince

He should have informed Gian then, but he hadn’t.

Matias had been due to take the throne in six months and Amalia De Vita had spent her entire life in training to be his wife. There hadn’t been another woman more suitable to be Santa Castelia’s queen. The De Vita family was an ancient lineage, bringing nobility and pedigree to a throne sorely damaged by the antics of Rafael’s father, King Carlos, and Rafael had agreed early on that no other woman would do.

This marriage was supposed to be his last gift to the country that had never warmed to him even as they’d begged him to rule after his father had died.

A lesser man would have used the opportunity to teach them a lesson in being grateful, but Rafael had never been a lesser man. He was above such petty concerns as revenge.

However...

Cold fury shifted inside him as he looked down into Amalia’s deep blue eyes, even as it warred with a grudging respect.

She was afraid, yet that forceful little chin was lifted and set. ‘There is no need for all the theatrics, Your Excellency,’ she said in that low, well-modulated voice that he knew wasn’t hers. ‘If you want me to come with you, then I will. I just don’t want to be dragged out of my own wedding by a palace guard.’

Gian De Vita’s face was a mask of very real confusion. It was clear Lia hadn’t told him anything, which was probably a small mercy. He’d never approved of Rafael, even if he’d been the one to beg Rafael to be Regent until Matias came of age, and this would not endear him to Gian any further.

Too bad.

He had nothing to lose. The wedding was in ruins now. He’d worked hard for the past six years of his regency to keep the peace in Santa Castelia, to make up for the decades of scandal and profligacy that had characterised his father’s reign.

He’d wanted to set an example of restraint and decorum, and he had.

Only for it to end like this.

No, he had nothing to lose. The crown had never been his and it never would. And now he’d caused the kind of scandal he would have abhorred even a week ago.

But everything was different now.

The pure, good girl wasn’t quite so pure after all and she’d been hiding a secret. A secret from him.

Well, she couldn’t hide it any more.

He’d broken his own vow and he’d done so spectacularly by coming here. Might as well end it in the same way, in the time-honoured fashion.

‘In that case,’ Rafael said, ‘if you don’t wish to be dragged from the cathedral by a guard, you shall be dragged from the cathedral by me.’ And before anyone could move or say a word, he picked her up, flung her over his shoulder and strode down the aisle to the doors, her veil drifting out behind them, leaving the entire cathedral in an uproar.

At the kerb, the limo that had brought him here was still waiting as instructed, the driver standing with the door open.

Anton didn’t appear in the least bit fazed to see the Regent striding down the cathedral steps with the bride over one shoulder. He simply waited until Rafael had deposited Lia inside and got in himself, then shut the door.

Rafael made a mental note to give his driver a substantial raise as the limo took off.

Lia sat on the seat opposite him in a drift of sparkling white tulle, her veil tangled, her diamond circlet hanging lopsidedly over one ear.

She wasn’t pale any more and neither was she afraid.

Her cheeks were red with outrage and fury burned in her blue eyes.

Dios, she was beautiful when she lost the veneer of manners that her parents had drummed into her.

She said nothing. She only lifted her bouquet and threw it at him.

He caught it before it hit him in the face, the roses showering white petals all over his morning suit. If anyone looked through the windows of the limo now and didn’t know who they were, they would have seen a beautiful bride and her new husband, perhaps having a fun game.

They were not having a fun game.

Rafael gently laid the bouquet down on the seat beside him. ‘What were you saying about theatrics?’

‘How dare you?’ she burst out, that clear, well-modulated voice not so clear or so well-modulated any longer, but vibrating with a low, husky rage. ‘In front of the entire country! In front of Matias and my father! How dare you even touch me!’

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