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She was so pretty. Her complexion was roses and cream with a light sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Her dark lashes concealed those incredible eyes— those penetrating eyes that made him feel she could see every thought in his head.
The first night they’d met, she speared him with one look from those eyes and he’d been lost. His body had leaped with interest, but it was more than that—it was as if he’d known from the very start that she was going to be his.
And she was. Satisfaction filled him. She’d finally agreed that marriage was their best choice given the situation. Idly, he wondered what would happen if he’d met her today, in Phoenix, with no pregnancy to make marriage a necessity.
Would he still have been drawn to her so strongly? Would he have called her again? Would he even consider asking her to be his wife?
Of course. That was how it was supposed to work. Arranged marriages were ridiculous, and seemed even more so now that he understood what it was like to be anticipating marriage to the woman he loved—
The woman he loved.
My God, it had been between them the whole time. How had he not known? How had he not recognized it?
On the other hand, why would he? He hadn’t grown up knowing what it felt like to be loved. He’d never allowed himself to need another person, either, like he needed her. He needed her. It was a frightening thought to know that his happiness depended on this one small woman lying beside him.
Shifting onto an elbow, he watched the slow rhythm of her breathing. The milky globes of her breasts were hidden beneath the arms she had folded under her chin and one leg was drawn up, hiding the soft female treasure that had welcomed him earlier. Her belly, stretched and swollen, was tilted down to rest against the bed and he wondered how much bigger she would get.
She was going to need him, too, in a very physical sense that had nothing to do with sex, he realized. For assistance as her body grew even more bulky and cumbersome, but more than that, for reassurance. He wouldn’t let her doubt for a single moment that he found her desirable despite her pregnancy. The fact that she carried a child made from the two of them, from their very first, memorable meeting, only made her more precious in his eyes.
Gently, he laid his hand over her stomach, over the womb where his baby rested.
His baby. Their baby. For a few moments he allowed himself to dream about the child growing within her womb. What would he be like as a father? he wondered. He’d promised himself over the years that any children of his never would have to know the sting of critical words, never would cry themselves to sleep because they hadn’t measured up, never would choose to spend lonely holidays at boarding school rather than go home. Hell, his kids wouldn’t even go to boarding school.
He’s sorry, you know, even if he can’t say it. Roland’s words echoed in his head.
Oh, his father couldn’t have been an easy man to live with even if he had mellowed, as Roland claimed. And his mother…she’d followed her husband’s lead her entire life. Rafe had sensed more than once that she’d have liked to be warmer, more demonstrative and loving with him, but she’d never disobey the Grand Duke’s edict that too much coddling would spoil the boy.
Rafe’s children were going to know they were loved in every way there was. If that spoiled them, then too bad. It beat rejection.
He came out of his reverie then to see Elizabeth lying quietly, sleepy emerald eyes studying his face. She reached out a hand and laid it gently on his cheek and he turned his face into her palm, pressing a whisper-light kiss there before taking the hand and bringing it to the back of his neck. Slowly he leaned over her and set his mouth on hers, kissing her with all the tenderness his newly realized love gave him. When he lifted his head, there were tears in her eyes and he knew she’d caught something of his feelings in the gentle caress.
Dinner with his family was more of a success than he’d have believed was possible before this day. But now, Rafe caught himself thinking of the legions of ancestors who had lived in this very building. It would be exciting to share that with his child someday, on a visit to his father’s homeland.
On a visit… For the first time he had a moment’s dissatisfaction with his life-style. His child’s heritage was here, where hundreds of years had passed under his family’s rule. It was a remarkable legacy…was he wrong to reject it so completely?
Flying back to Wynborough that evening, to the palace where Elizabeth was staying with her parents, he remembered what she’d been pestering him about during their trip the previous afternoon. Though talking about his childhood wasn’t high on his list of favorite activities, he said abruptly, “My parents—my father in particular—had very set ideas on how to raise a little duke-to-be. I had to ride, hunt, fish, speak French, read Latin, excel at mathematics and science, study the classics, recite every rule of etiquette, know proper forms of address—you name it, my father believed I should do it.”
Elizabeth put a hand over his where it rested on the wheel of the car he drove. “Your childhood must have been busy.”
“Busy.” He laughed, but even he could hear the pain in the sound. “I wanted to please. I can remember lying awake as a very small boy, rehearsing over and over again how to greet the King of Wynborough at my first formal presentation the next day. But when the next day came, I was so nervous that I threw up while we were waiting in line to be presented. My father was livid.”
Her fingers tightened briefly on his.
“They sent me to school when I was five because my father felt I lacked proper self-discipline. It was horrible. Cold showers every morning, standing in perfect lines at all times, no extra servings at meals. For a growing boy, that alone was torture. But do you know what the worst thing was?”
He sensed rather than saw her shake her head in the dark interior of the vehicle. “The worst thing was that soon, too soon, I preferred that hellish school to my own home. At school, hard work had rewards. At home, hard work only meant more difficult tasks and more criticism.”
He stopped speaking. There was no point in going on. She got the picture.
“Rafe…” Her voice was soft and hesitant and when he glanced at her he could see the tracks where tears had slipped down her cheeks. “I promise our child will never be a…a product to be perfected. Our children will be works of art, great treasures to be protected and preserved for their own unique characteristics.”
Her words moved him, and the fact that she’d said “children” wasn’t lost on him. Reaching across the car, he wiped away the telltale moisture with the pad of his thumb and caressed her cheek before returning his hand to the wheel.
“Mother, I’ll be back in five days, I promise.” Elizabeth hugged the Queen of Wynborough. “Plenty of time to get your wedding gown altered to fit a pregnant bride.”
“But why go at all?” her mother asked plaintively. “It isn’t as if there’s anything in Phoenix for you to do in the next two weeks.”
But there is. According to Laura, Sam Flynn is back in town. It would be wonderful if I could bring my brother home for my wedding!
