He had taken her without a condom. That night, he had taken her without a condom. He had known that, but somewhere in the back of his mind he had assumed that if a woman had come to him, if she’d slept with him without any mention of birth control, that she was protected.
He ended the kiss, his hand planted firmly on her stomach. “Are you…?”
“I… Yes,” she said.
“Why didn’t you tell me before this? You knew where to find me. I had no idea where to find you.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” she whispered. “But…perhaps…it’s a good thing?”
She was so hopeful. But nothing about this was good. Her pregnancy would announce to the world that he had taken another woman the night he had buried his wife. The disrespect on Circe’s legacy, on his own, was unfathomable. And of course that wasn’t her fault, unless…
He didn’t know who she was.
She had come to him, they had spoken no words, they hadn’t used protection and she hadn’t protested. All this had been a plot. To get herself pregnant with the heir. Or perhaps to pass her pregnancy off as his.
The look on Lady Tremaine’s face when she’d come in…
“Who are you?” he asked.
He grabbed the edge of her mask and took it away from her face, revealing herself to him.
Yes, it was the woman from that night. But it was…
The moonlight illuminated her more than the harsh firelight of the study. And suddenly, those features looked familiar. Much more than they had that night, and yet, he questioned how he hadn’t seen it.
Of course.
She wasn’t noble. She wasn’t a princess, a duchess, anything.
It was the maid.
And she had contrived to carry the heir, she had overheard about the ball…
It might not even be his child. She might just be trying to pass it off as his. That would make perfect sense. If she had fallen pregnant by some no-account man, and had decided to take an opportunity to use his grief against him. Coming to him under cover of darkness, touching him when he was vulnerable…
“You,” he said, the word filled with all the poison now flooding his veins. “How dare you?”
“Your Highness,” she said. “I can explain. I…”
He couldn’t bear to hear her speak. Couldn’t bear to hear her lies, not now.
“You will be explaining. At length. But away from here. You will not go back to the ball, you will go to my study. I know you know where it is.”
Her eyes were round and glimmering, like she was innocent, like she was the victim. “Are you angry with me?”
“Angrydoesn’t begin to cover it,” he ground out. “Angryisn’t strong enough.”
He would tear down the whole sky and leave them standing in the shattered stars. He would bring down the moon. He would…
He would blot out the night, the day, everything, right the wrong that had been done here.
A maid. A commoner.
Another trap.
“But I don’t understand. You want me. You want this.” As if she were so confused about why he would be angry. About the abuse she’d committed here.
“I wouldneverhave wanted you if I would’ve known who you were,” he said. “And you must have known that. Otherwise, you would’ve revealed yourself. Otherwise, you would’ve revealed your pregnancy.”
