Princess's Pregnancy Secret Page 4

  She’d never been as close to another person in all her life. Not so passionately, nakedly close. Nor so vulnerable, or so safe. Never so free.

  She kissed him in arousal, in madness, in gratitude. Trusting him implicitly. He’d already proven his desire to please her.

  ‘Come again,’ he coaxed in a passionate whisper. ‘I want to feel you come.’

  She wanted that too. She wanted exactly that.

  He touched her just above the point where they were joined, teasing even as he filled her. She gasped as she felt the sensations inside gather once more in that unstoppable storm.

  ‘You...please...’ she begged incoherently as she feverishly clutched him, digging her fingernails into his flesh. She wanted him to feel the same ecstasy surging through her. She needed him on this ride with her. As she frantically arched to meet him she heard his groan. His hands gripped tighter, his expression tensed. She smiled in that final second. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to revel in it and she never, ever wanted it to end.

  His face flushed as sensation swept the final vestige of control from his grasp. Pleasure stormed through her again, surging to the farthest reaches of her body. She sobbed in the onslaught of goodness and delight and his roar of satisfaction was the coda to her completeness.

  Her eyes were closed. She could hear only the beating of her heart and his as they recovered. She was pinned by his weight and it was the best feeling on earth.

  But then laughter rang out. Not hers. Nor his.

  ‘What’s in this room?’

  Eleni snapped her head to stare at the door as someone on the other side tried the handle.

  ‘Hello?’

  More laughter reverberated through the wood.

  Reality returned in a violent slam, evaporating the mist of delight. Suddenly she saw herself as she’d look to anyone who burst through that door—Princess Eleni of Palisades, ninety per cent naked, sprawled on a table with her legs around the waist of some stranger and his body ploughed deep into hers.

  Sordid headlines smashed into her head: shameless wanton...a one-night stand...the eve of her engagement... There would be no mercy, no privacy—only scorn and shame. She had to get out of here. Aghast, she stared up at the handsome stranger she’d just ravished. What had she done?

  * * *

  Damon watched his masked lover’s eyes widen in shock. Beneath the blue sparkled powder, her skin paled and her kiss-crushed lips parted in a silent gasp. This was more than embarrassment. This was fear. He was so stunned by her devastated expression he stepped back. She slipped down from the table and tugged at her crumpled clothing. Before he could speak someone knocked on the door again. More voices sounded out in the corridor.

  Her pallor worsened.

  ‘I’ll get rid of them,’ he assured her, hauling up his trousers so he could get to the door and deny anyone entrance to the room. He was determined to wipe that terror from her face.

  He pressed a hand on the door. Even though he’d locked it, he couldn’t be sure someone wouldn’t be able to unlock it from the other side. He listened intently, hoping the revellers would pass and go exploring elsewhere. After a few moments the voices faded.

  He turned back to see how she was doing, but she’d vanished. Shocked, he stared around the empty room, then stalked back to where she’d been standing seconds ago. Only now did he register the other door tucked to the side of that large mirror. There were two entrances to this room and he’d been so caught up in her he’d not even noticed.

  He tried the handle but it was locked. So how had she got through it? Keenly he searched and spotted a discreet security screen. Had she known the code to get out? She must have. Because in the space of two seconds, she’d fled.

  Just who was she? Why so afraid of someone finding her? Foreboding filled him. He didn’t trust women. He didn’t trust anyone.

  If only he’d peeled off that mask and seen her face properly. How could he have made such a reckless, risky decision?

  Anger simmered, but voices sounded outside the other door again, forcing him to move. He glanced in the mirror at his passion-swept reflection. Frowning, he swiftly buttoned his shirt and fixed his trousers properly. Thank heavens he’d retained enough sense to use protection. But as he sorted himself out he realised something he’d missed in his haste to ensure that door was secure. The damn condom was torn. And more than that? It was marked with a trace of something that shouldn’t have been there. He remembered when she’d first pushed down on him. When she’d inhaled sharply and tears had sprung to her eyes.

  Uncertainty. Pain.

  Grimly he fastened his belt. He’d been too lost to lust to absorb the implications of her reaction. Now his gut tensed as he struggled to believe the evidence. Had she given him her virginity? Had she truly never had another lover and yet let him, a total stranger, have her in a ten-minute tryst in a private powder room?

  Impossible. But the stain of her purity was on his skin. His pulse thundered in his ears. Why would she have done something so wild? What was her motivation?

  Hell, what had he been thinking? To have had sex with a woman he’d barely met as fast and as furiously as possible? Almost in public?

  But her expressive response had swept all sensible thought from his head. She’d wanted him and heaven knew he’d wanted her. He was appalled by his recklessness; his anger roared. But a twist of Machiavellian satisfaction brewed beneath, because he was going to have to find her. He was going to have to warn her about the condom. The instinct to hunt her pressed like the blade of a knife. She owed him answers.

  Find her. Find her. Find her.

  His pulse banged like a pagan’s drum, marching him back to the busy ballroom. He even took to the balcony to scan the braying crowd, determined to find that blue hair and swan-like neck. But he knew it was futile. The midnight hour had struck and that sizzling Cinderella had run away, never wanting to be seen again.

  Least of all by him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘YOU LOOK PEAKY.’

  Eleni forced a reassuring smile and faced her brother across the aisle in his jet.

  ‘I have a bit of a headache but it’s getting better,’ she lied.

  She felt rotten. Sleeplessness and guilt made her queasy.

  ‘The next few weeks will be frantic. You’ll need to stay in top form. They want the pretty Princess, not the pale one,’ King Giorgos turned back to the tablet he’d been staring at for the duration of the flight.

  ‘Yes.’

  She glanced out of the small window. Crowds had gathered with flags and celebratory signs. She quickly dug into her bag to do a touch-up on her blush, thankful that the jet had landed them back on Palisades.

  Giorgos had escorted her on a three-day celebration visit of Santa Chiara to meet again with Prince Xander and his family. Not so long ago she’d have inwardly grimaced at her brother’s smothering protectiveness, but she’d been glad of his presence. It had meant she’d not been left alone with Prince Xander.

  The Shy Princess captures the Playboy Prince...

  Their engagement had captured the imaginations of both nations. Her schedule and the resulting media interest had been beyond intense these last few weeks. At least all the appearances had kept her too busy to think. But late at night when she was alone in her private suite?

  That was when she processed everything, reassuring herself she was safe. She would never tell anyone and that man from the ball would never tell anyone. He didn’t even know who she was. She didn’t know his name either. Only his face. Only his body.

  She shivered but forced another smile when her brother glanced at her again. ‘I’m going to go to my hospital visit this morning,’ she said brightly.

  Giorgos frowned. ‘You don’t wish to rest?’

  Always protective. And also, always frowning.

  She shook her head.

  It had been nothing more than a sordid physical transaction. A ten-minute encounter between strangers. And surely, please, ple
ase, please, she would soon forget it. Because right now the memories were too real. She relived every moment, every word, every touch. And the worst thing? She wanted it again, wanted more, wanted it so much she burned with it. And then she burned with shame. Tears stung at the enormity of her betrayal. She was now engaged to another man yet all she could think of was him, that arrogant, intense stranger at the ball.

  Thankfully displays of physical affection weren’t ‘done’ between royals so the few ‘kisses for the camera’ on her tour with Prince Xander had been brief—her coolness read by the media as shyness. In private her fiancé had seemed happy to give her the time and space to adjust.

  It was Giorgos who had asked if she was going to be happy with Xander and who’d reassured her that her fiancé’s ‘playboy’ status was more media speculation than solid truth. For a moment she was tempted to confess her dreadful affair, but then she saw the tiredness in the back of her brother’s eyes. He worked so hard for his people.

  And she couldn’t bear to see his crushing disappointment. She remembered how Giorgos had teased her with big-brother ruthlessness and laughter. But how he’d aged a decade overnight when their father died. Under the burden of all that responsibility he’d become serious, distant and more ruthless, without that humour. She understood he was wretchedly busy, but he’d tried his best for her—sending people to educate her, protect her, guide her. He just hadn’t had the time himself. And she could not let him down.

  He believed Xander to be the right fit for her—from a limited pool of options—and perhaps he was. So she’d make the best of it.

  For Giorgos.

  But the thought of her wedding night repulsed her. As crazy as it was, that brief conversation with that stranger at the ball had engendered far more trust in her than any of the discussions she’d had with polite, well-educated, aiming-to-please but ultimately careless Prince Xander. She simply didn’t want him like that. She shivered again as that cold, sick feeling swept over her.

  ‘I don’t want to miss a visit,’ she finally answered as she rose to disembark the jet.

  She needed to do something slightly worthwhile because the guilt was eating her up. Her brother nodded and said nothing more. If anyone understood duty before all else, it was he.

  An hour later, as she walked the corridor towards her favourite ward, that cold queasiness returned.

  ‘Princess Eleni?’ Kassie, the physiotherapist escorting her to the ward, stopped.

  From a distance Eleni registered the woman was frowning and her voice sounded distanced too.

  ‘Are you feeling okay?’

  * * *

  Damon Gale was barely existing in a state of perpetual anger. He hadn’t left Palisades without trying to find and warn his mystery lover there might be consequences from their time together. He’d described her to his half-sister Kassie, but she’d not been able to identify the woman either. No one could. None of his subtle queries had given any answers. Where had she disappeared to so quickly? Heaven knew, when he found her he was giving her a piece of his mind. But at night she came to him in dream after dream. He woke, hard, hungry and irritable as hell. There was so much more they should have done. But now she was hiding. Not least the truth about who she was. Why?

  He loathed nothing more than lies.

  So this morning, weeks since that damn ball, he’d once again flown back to Palisades. Now he waited for Kassie at the hospital in her tiny office, looking at the clever pen and ink drawings of the child patients pinned to the noticeboard.

  He heard a footstep and a low, hurried whisper just outside the door.

  ‘Ma’am, are you sure you’re feeling all right?’

  That was Kassie. Damon’s muscles tensed.

  ‘I’m just a bit...dizzy. Oh.’ The woman groaned.

  He froze, shocked at the second voice. He knew those raspy tones. She spoke in his dreams. Every. Damn. Night.

  ‘Do you need a container?’ Kassie asked delicately.

  ‘I had a bug a few days ago but I thought I was over it or I’d never have visited today,’ the woman muttered apologetically. ‘I’m so sorry. I’d never want to put any of your patients at risk.’

  ‘They’re a hardy lot.’ Now Kassie’s smile was audible. ‘I’m more concerned about you. Are you sure I can’t get a doctor to check you over?’

  ‘No, please. No fuss. I’ll quickly go back to the palace. My driver is waiting.’

  Palace? Damon was unable to move. Unable to speak. His woman had known the security code to get through that second door in the palace. Did she work there? But she’d said she worked at the hospital. That was why he was back here again.

  ‘Maybe you should rest a moment,’ Kassie urged softly.

  ‘No. I need to go. I shouldn’t have come.’

  Damon stood. Those words exactly echoed ones he’d heard that night at the masked ball. Those exact tones in that exact, raspy voice. It was her.

  He strode across the room and out into the corridor. But his half-sister had her back to him and she was standing alone. Damon looked past her and saw no one—the corridor ended abruptly with a corner.

  ‘Who was that?’ he demanded harshly.

  Kassie spun, startled. ‘Damon?’ She blinked at him. ‘I didn’t know you were coming back again so soon.’

  ‘I have another meeting,’ he clipped. ‘Who were you talking to?’

  ‘I’m not supposed to say because her visits are strictly private,’ Kassie answered quietly. ‘But she wasn’t feeling well today and left early.’

  ‘Whose visits?’ What did she mean by ‘private’?

  ‘The Princess.’

  Damon stared dumbfounded at his half-sister.

  Princess Eleni of Palisades?

  Wasn’t she the younger sister of King Giorgos, a man known for his protectiveness and control over everything—his island nation, his emotions, his small family. Hadn’t he been the guardian of the supposedly shy Princess for ever?

  Now the covers of the newspapers at the airport flashed in his mind. He’d walked past them this morning but paid little attention because they’d all carried the same photo and same headline—

  A Royal Engagement! The Perfect Prince for Our Princess!

  But the Princess was not perfect. She’d fooled around with a total stranger only a few weeks ago. And now she was engaged. Had she been rebelling like some wilful teen? Or was there something more devious behind her shocking behaviour? And, heaven have mercy, how old was she?

  ‘What do you think was wrong with her?’ he asked Kassie uneasily. He needed to get alone and research more because an extremely bad feeling was building inside him.

  ‘I’m not sure. She was pale and nau—’

  ‘Where did she go?’ he interrupted.

  Kassie was staring at him. ‘Back to the palace. She visits my ward every Friday. She never misses, no matter what.’ Kassie ventured a small smile. ‘She doesn’t seem your type.’

  He forced himself to answer idly, as if this didn’t matter a jot. ‘Do I have a type?’

  Kassie’s laugh held a nervous edge as she shook her head. ‘Princess Eleni is very sweet and innocent.’

  But that was where Kassie was wrong. Princess Eleni wasn’t sweet or innocent at all. She was a liar and a cheat and he was going to tear her to shreds.

  Thank God he finally knew where and how he could get to her. He just had to withstand waiting one more week.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IN HER BATHROOM Eleni stared at her reflection. Her skin was leached of colour and she felt sick and tired all the time. Wretched nausea roiled in her stomach yet again, violent and irrepressible. She’d been avoiding mirrors since the ball. She couldn’t see herself without seeing those two strangers entwined...

  It had been over a month since that night. Now she gazed at her breasts and held in her agonised gasp. Was it her imagination or were they fuller than usual? That would be because her period was due, right? But finally she made herself face the fact she
’d been trying desperately to forget. Her period was more than due. It was late.

  Two weeks late.

  She’d been busy. She’d been travelling. Her cycle could be screwed up by nerves, couldn’t it?

  Frigid fear slithered down her spine as bitter acid flooded her mouth again. Because a lone, truly terrifying reason for her recurring sickness gripped her.

  Surely it was impossible. She’d seen him put on that condom. She couldn’t possibly be pregnant. That foul acid burned its way up into her mouth. She closed her eyes as tears stung and then streamed down her face. She needed help and she needed it now.

  But there was no help to be had. She had no true friends to trust. Her childhood companions had been carefully selected for their families’ loyalty to the crown and swiftly excised from her life if they’d slightly transgressed. There were acquaintances but no real confidantes and now most were in continental Europe getting on with their careers.

  Eleni had studied at home. It was ‘safer’; it endorsed their own, prestigious university; it was what Giorgos had wanted. She’d not argued, not wanting to cause him trouble.

  She was terrified of troubling him now.

  But she was going to have to. Shaking, she showered then dressed. She quickly typed an email to Giorgos’s secretary requesting a meeting for this evening. Her brother was busy, but Prince Xander was arriving from Santa Chiara tonight for a week’s holiday with her. They’d be travelling to the outer islands to spend more time together. She was dreading it. She had to speak to Giorgos first. She had to tell him the truth.

  Still incredibly cold, she grabbed a jacket and stuffed a cap in the pocket while her maid, Bettina, phoned for her car.

  It was far later than when she usually went to the hospital, but she was desperate to get away from her suite where her maid was lining up sample wedding dresses from the world’s top designers. The only thing she could do while waiting to meet Giorgos was maintain some kind of schedule. Given she’d left her visit so abruptly last week, she couldn’t miss this week as well. She’d control the nausea and control her life.