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She wasn’t sure if he made the first move, or she did, or they met halfway, but suddenly their lips were locked, and in that instant she had never wanted a man more than she wanted him.
Any man who accused Princess Anne of being cold and unfeeling had obviously never kissed her. She tasted sweet and salty, like champagne and tears, and she put her heart and soul, her entire being into it.
Though Sam wasn’t quite sure who kissed whom first, he had the feeling he might have just unleashed some sort of wild animal. She clawed at his clothes, yanking his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, tugging his bow tie loose. She fumbled with his belt, unfastened his pants, and before he could manage to catch his breath, slid her hand inside his boxers and wrapped it around him. Sam cursed under his breath, a word that under normal circumstances he would never dare utter in the presence of royalty, but he was having one hell of a tough time reconciling the princess he knew with the wild woman who was now walking backward toward her bed, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor. She plucked a jewel-encrusted comb from her hair and he watched as it spilled down over her shoulders like black silk. She grinned wickedly, tempting him with eyes the color of the sky just before a storm—smoky gray and turbulent.
Though under normal circumstances he would find it juvenile and downright rude, when his mates dared Sam to ask Princess Anne, The Shrew, to dance, he’d had just enough champagne to take the bait. But never in a million years did he expect her to ask him first. Nor did he expect to find himself in her bedroom, Anne undressed to her black lace strapless bra and matching panties. And as she draped her long, lithe body across the mattress, summoning him closer with a crooked finger and a seductive smile, he guessed it wouldn’t be long before she wore nothing at all.
“Take your clothes off,” she demanded as she reached around behind her to unhook her bra. Her breasts were small and firm and he could hardly wait to get his hands on them, to taste them. He ripped his shirt off, losing a button or two in his haste, then stepped out of his pants, grabbing his wallet for later. That was when he realized the mistake he’d made and cursed again.
“What’s wrong?” Anne asked.
“I don’t have a condom.”
“You don’t?” she said, looking crestfallen.
He shook his head. It wasn’t as if he came to these events expecting to shag, and even if he had, he would have anticipated taking the woman in question home, where he kept an entire box in his bedside table drawer.
“I’ve got it covered,” Anne told him.
“You have a condom?”
“No, but I have it covered.”
In other words, she was on birth control, but that wouldn’t protect either of them from disease. But he knew he was clean, and it was a safe bet to assume she was, too. So why not? Besides, Anne was wearing a look that said she wouldn’t be taking no for an answer.
He dropped the rest of his clothes in a pile and joined her. As she dragged him down onto the bed, ravaging his mouth with a deep, desperate kiss, rolling him onto his back and straddling him, he had the feeling this was a night he wouldn’t soon forget.
They had barely gotten started and it was already the best sex he’d ever had.
Two
September
I’ve got it covered, Anne thought wryly as she dragged herself up from the bathroom floor, still weak and shaky, and propped herself against the vanity over the sink. What the bloody hell had she been thinking when she told Sam that? Had she not bothered to even consider the consequences? The repercussions of her actions?
Well, she was considering them now. And she had no one to blame but herself.
She rinsed her mouth and splashed cold water on her face and the wave of nausea began to pass. The family physician, whom she had sworn to total secrecy, had assured her that she’d feel better in her second trimester. But here she was in her fifteenth week, three weeks past that magical date, and she still felt like the walking dead. But it was worth it, she thought, as she laid a hand over the tiny bump that had begun to form just below her navel.
It was hard to believe that at first, when she learned she was pregnant, she wasn’t even sure that she wanted to keep it. Her initial plan had been to take an extended vacation somewhere remote and warm, live in exile until it was born, and then give it up for adoption. Then Chris’s wife, Melissa, had given birth to their triplets and Anne cradled her tiny niece and nephews in her arms for the first time. Despite never having given much thought to having children—it had always seemed so far off in the future—in that instant she knew she wanted her baby. She wanted someone to love her unconditionally. Someone to depend on her.
She was going to have this baby and she was going to raise it herself. With support from her family, of course. Which she was sure she would get just as soon as she told them. So far only her twin sister, Louisa, knew. As for Sam, he obviously wanted nothing to do with her.
Their night together had been like a fantasy come to life. She’d heard her sister talk for years about destiny and finding one true love. And in fact, Louisa’s dreams had come true at the ball—she was now married to her mystery man, Garrett Sutherland. But until Sam kissed Anne, until he made love to her so passionately, until, exhausted, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, Anne hadn’t truly believed in love. But now that she did, it would seem that Sam didn’t share her feelings.
She had been sure that it had been as special for him as it had been for her, that they had connected on some deeply visceral level. Even when she had woken up alone and realized that at some time in the night he had slipped away without saying goodbye, she wouldn’t let her hopes be dashed. She kept waiting to hear from him. For weeks she stayed close to the phone, willing it to ring, hoping to answer and hear his voice. But the call never came.
She shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Sam was a politician, and everyone knew that politics and royalty did not mix well. Not if Sam wanted to be prime minister someday, and that was what she’d heard. By law, no member of the royal family was permitted to hold a position in government. Could she honestly blame him for choosing a career he had spent his entire life preparing for over her? That was why she had made the decision not to tell him about the baby. It was a complication that neither of them needed. And one she was quite sure he didn’t want despite the scandal it would cause for her.
She could see the headlines now. Princess Anne Pregnant with Secret Love Child.
No matter how liberal the world had become in such matters, she was royalty and held to a higher standard. The stigma would follow her and, even worse, her child, for the rest of their lives. But at this point, she saw no other options.
Feeling half-human again, she decided she should get back to the dining room and try to choke down a few bites of dinner. Geoffrey, their butler, had just begun to serve the first course when her stomach lurched and she’d had to excuse herself and dash to the loo.
She gave one last furtive look in the mirror and decided that short of a total makeover, this was as good as it was going to get. She opened the door and almost collided with her brother Chris, who was leaning against the wall just outside.
Bloody hell.
His grim expression said that he had heard her retching, and he wanted to know what would cause her to be so ill.
“Let’s have a talk,” he said, jerking his head toward the study across the hall.
“But, supper …” she started to say, and he gave her that look.
“Now, Anne.”
Since arguing would be a waste of time, she followed him. With their father in poor health, Chris was acting king, and technically the head of the family. She was duty-bound to follow his lead. And didn’t she always do as she was told? Wouldn’t everyone be surprised when they learned of her predicament.
She could lie and tell him that she had a flu bug, or a mild case of food poisoning, but at the rate her tummy was swelling, it wouldn’t be long before it was impossible to hide anyway. But she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the truth to come out just yet.
Or maybe he already knew. Had Louisa blabbed? Anne would kill her if that was the case.
Anne stepped into the study, and, shy of her mother, father and the triplets, the entire family was there!
Aaron and his wife, Liv, a botanical geneticist, sat on the couch looking worried. Louisa and her new husband, Garrett, stood across the room by the window. Louisa wore a pained expression and Garrett looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but there. Melissa, Chris’s wife, stood just inside the door, looking anxious. Not five minutes ago they had all been in the dinning room eating supper.
Her first instinct was to turn and walk right back out, but Chris had already followed her in and shut the door.
What a nightmare.
“I don’t suppose I have to tell you why I asked you here,” he said.
Ordered was more like it. Now she was sorry she’d agreed.
“We’re very concerned,” Melissa said, walking over to stand beside Chris. “You haven’t been yourself lately, Anne. For the last couple of months you’ve been pale and listless. Not to mention all the times you’ve dashed off to the loo.”
So they didn’t know. Louisa had kept her secret.
“It’s obvious something is wrong,” Aaron said. He normally wasn’t one to butt into other people’s business, so she knew he must have been genuinely concerned. Maybe waiting so long to tell everyone had been an error in judgment. She didn’t honestly think that anyone really noticed the changes in her or for that matter cared about them.
“If you’re ill—” Melissa began.
“I’m not ill,” Anne assured her.
“An eating disorder is a disease,” Chris said.
Anne turned to him, amused because Louisa had suspected the same thing at first. “Chris, if I were bulimic, I would be dashing off to the loo after supper, not before.”
He didn’t look as though he believed her. “I know something is wrong.”
“It all depends on how you look at it, I guess.”
“Look at what?” Melissa asked.
Just tell them, dummy. “I’m pregnant.”
All through the room jaws dropped. Except Louisa’s, of course.
“If this is some kind of joke, I’m not amused,” Chris said.
“It’s no joke.”
“Of course!” Melissa said, as though the lightbulb had just flashed on. “I should have realized. I just never thought …”
“I would be careless enough to go out and get myself in trouble?” Anne asked.
“I … I wasn’t even aware that you were seeing anyone,” Aaron said.
“I’m not. It was a one-time encounter.”
“Maybe this is a silly question,” Chris said. “But are you sure? Have you taken a test? Seen the family physician?”
She lifted the hem of the cardigan she’d been wearing to hide the evidence and smoothed her dress down over her bump. “What do you think?”
Had his eyes not been fastened in they might have fallen out of his head. “Good God, how far along are you?”
“Fifteen weeks.”
“You’re four months pregnant and you never thought to mention it?”
“I planned to announce it when the time was right.”
“When? After your water broke?” he snapped, and Melissa put a hand on his arm to calm him.
“There’s no need to get snippy,” Anne said.
Ironic coming from her, his look said, the princess of snip. Well, maybe she didn’t want to be that way any longer. Maybe she was tired of always being on the defensive.
“This isn’t like you, Anne,” Chris said.
“It’s not as if I went out and got knocked up on purpose, you know.” Although he was right. She had been uncharacteristically irresponsible.
I’ve got it covered. Brilliant.
“This is going to be a nightmare when it hits the press,” Melissa said. Being an illegitimate princess herself, she would certainly know. Until recently she’d lived in the U.S., unaware that she was heir to the throne of Morgan Isle.
“And what about the Gingerbread Man?” Louisa asked, speaking up for the first time. “I’m sure he’ll use the opportunity to try to scare us.”
The self-proclaimed Gingerbread Man was the extremely disturbed man who had been harassing the royal family for more than a year. He began by hacking their computer system and sending Anne and her siblings twisted and grisly versions of fairy tales, then he breached security on the palace grounds to leave an ominous note. Not long after, posing as housekeeping staff, he’d made it as far as the royal family’s private waiting room at the hospital. Hours after he was gone, security found the chilling calling card he’d left behind. An envelope full of photographs of Anne and her siblings that the Gingerbread Man had taken in various places so they would know that he was there, watching.
He would sometimes be silent for months, yet every time they thought they had heard the last of him, he would reappear out of the blue. He sent a basket of rotten fruit for Christmas and an e-mail congratulating Chris and Melissa about the triplets before her pregnancy had even been formally announced.
His most recent stunt had been breaking into the florist the night before Aaron and Liv’s wedding in March and spraying the flowers with something that had caused them to wilt just in time for the ceremony.
Anne was sure he would pull something when he learned of her pregnancy, but she refused to let him get to her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I don’t care what the Gingerbread Man does,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance. “Personally, I’m all for drawing him out into the open so he makes a mistake and gets caught.”
“Which we have agreed not to do,” Chris said sternly.
Aaron asked the next obvious question. “What about the father of the baby? Is he taking responsibility?”
“Like I said, it was a one-night thing.”
Chris frowned. “He didn’t offer to marry you?”
This was where it was going to get tricky. “No. Besides, he’s not a royal.”
“I don’t give a damn who he is. He needs to take responsibility for his actions.”
“Liv and Garrett aren’t royals. And I’m only half-royal,” Melissa added.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s out of the picture,” Anne insisted.
“And that was his choice?” Aaron asked.
Anne bit her lip.
“Anne?” Chris asked, and when she remained silent he cursed under his breath. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
“Trust me when I say, he’s better off.”
Melissa made a clucking noise, as though she were thoroughly disappointed in Anne.
“That is not your decision to make,” Chris said. “I don’t care who he is, he has a right to know he’s going to have a child. To keep it from him is unconscionable.”
She knew deep down that he was right. But she was feeling hurt and bitter and stubborn. If Sam didn’t want her, why should he be allowed access to their child?
“Sam may be a politician, but he’s a good man,” Chris said.
Once again, mouths fell open in surprise, including her own. She hadn’t told anyone the father’s identity. Not even Louisa. “How did you—”
“Simple math. You don’t honestly think Melissa and I could go through months of infertility treatments and a high-risk pregnancy without learning a thing or two about getting pregnant? Conception would have had to have occurred around the time of the charity ball. And do you really think that Sam’s sneaking out in the middle of the night would go unnoticed? “
No, of course not. They were under a ridiculously tight lockdown these days. “You never said anything.”
“What was I supposed to say? You’re a grown woman. As long as you’re discreet, who you sleep with is your business.” He put both hands on her shoulders. “But now, you need to call him and set up a meeting.”
“Why, so you can have a talk with him?”
