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‘In the meantime, what?’ she whispered as his voice trailed off.
‘Unfortunately the exiled Prince was killed in a riding accident before he could marry Louisa, who by then had given birth to his child.’
Her head jerked up. ‘You mean...’
Luc’s temper suddenly shortened. Maybe it was because he was tired and frustrated. Because she was sitting there with that cascade of curls flowing down over her engorged breasts and he wanted to make love to her. He wanted to explore her luscious body with fingers which were on the verge of trembling with frustration, not to have to sit here recounting his family history. Because this was not the wedding night he had anticipated.
‘I mean that somewhere out there a child was born out of wedlock—a child of royal Mardovian blood who was never seen again—and they say that there is none so dangerous as a dispossessed prince.’ His voice grew hard. ‘And I was not prepared for history to repeat itself. Because I have no brothers, Lisa. No one else to pass on the reins to, should I fail to produce an heir. Succession is vital to me, and to my land.’
‘So that’s why you forced me to marry you,’ she breathed.
He nodded. It was not the whole truth, but it was part of it—because he was slowly coming to realise that there were worse fates than having a woman like Lisa by his side. Duty, yes—he would not shirk from that—but couldn’t duty be clothed in pleasure?
Wasn’t she aware that now he had her here, he had no intention of letting her or the child go? If she accepted that with a good grace then so much the better, but accept it she would. His will was stronger than hers and he would win because he always won.
And then something else occurred to him—a fact which he had pushed to the back of his mind because the sheer logistics of getting her here had consumed all his thoughts. But it was something he needed to address sooner rather than later. He tensed as he realised that until they consummated the marriage, their union was not legal. His heart missed a beat. He realised that, but did she?
He remembered her defiant words on the plane—a variation on what she’d said just now, when she’d announced she had no intention of sharing a bed with him. He didn’t doubt her resolve, not for a moment, for Lisa was a strong and proud woman. Yet women were capricious creatures who could have their minds changed for them. But only if you played them carefully. He had learnt his first lessons in female manipulation from the governesses who’d been employed to look after him after his mother’s death. Run after a woman and it gave her power. Act like you didn’t care and she would be yours for the taking.
Duty clothed in pleasure.
He had vowed to be a good husband as well as a good father, so surely one of his responsibilities was making sure his wife received an adequate share of sexual satisfaction? He looked at her green-gold eyes and as he detected the glint of sexual hunger she could not disguise, he smiled.
His for the taking.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE NEXT FEW weeks were so full with being a new wife, a new princess and mother-to-be that Lisa had barely any time to get homesick. Eleonora introduced her to most of the palace staff, to her own personal driver and the two protection officers who would accompany her whenever she left the palace. She was given her own special servant—Almeera—a quiet, dark-eyed beauty who chattered excitedly about how much she loved babies. She met the royal dressmaker who said she’d happily make up Lisa’s own designs for the duration of her pregnancy, or they could send to Paris or London for any couture requirements the Princess might have.
She also had her first appointment with the palace obstetrician, Dr Gautier, who came to examine her in her royal apartments, accompanied by a midwife. At least Eleonora made herself scarce for that particular appointment, although Lisa was surprised when Luc made a sudden appearance just before the consultation began.
Her heart began to pound as he walked into the room, nodding to the doctor and midwife who had stood up to bow, before coming to sit beside her and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. And even though she knew the gesture was mainly for the benefit of the watching medics, she stupidly felt reassured. Could he feel the thunder of her pulse? Was he aware that her breasts started to ache whenever he was close? She wondered if they looked like any other newly-wed couple from the outside and what the doctor would say if he realised they hadn’t had sex since the night their child was conceived. And she wondered what Luc would say if he knew how at night she lay there, wide-eyed in the dark—unable to sleep because her body was craving his expert touch...
Dr Gautier flicked through the file which lay on the desk before him before fixing his eyes firmly on Luc.
‘I am assuming that Your Royal Highness already knows the sex of the baby?’ he questioned.
Did Luc hear Lisa’s intake of breath? All he had to do was to ask the doctor what he wanted to know and it would be done. The fact would be out there. Lisa swallowed. Some people might think she was being awkward in not wanting this particular piece of information, but it was important to her. It felt like her last remnant of independence and the only control she had left over her life.
‘My wife doesn’t wish to know,’ said Luc, meeting her eyes with a faintly mocking expression. ‘She wants it to be a surprise on the day.’
‘Very sensible,’ said the doctor, turning to ask Lisa if there was anything she wanted to know.
The questions she wanted to ask were not for the obstetrician’s ears. Nor for the ears of the husband sitting beside her.
How soon can I return to England after t
he birth?
When will Luc let me leave him?
Or the most troubling of all.
Will I ever stop wanting a man who sees me only as the vessel which carries his child?
But some of Lisa’s fears left her that day and she wasn’t sure why. Was it Luc’s simple courtesy in not demanding to know the sex of their baby? Or that meaningless little squeeze of her hand which had made her relax her defences a little? Afterwards, when they were back in their suite, she turned to him to thank him and the baby chose that moment to deliver a hefty kick just beneath her ribs. Automatically, she winced before smiling as she clutched her stomach and when she looked into Luc’s face, she was surprised by the sudden longing she read in his eyes.
She asked the question because she knew she had to, pushing aside the thought that it was a somehow dangerous thing to do—to invite him to touch her. ‘Would you like to...to feel the baby kick?’
