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Ninawas impressed despite herself.
Shekept catching sightof herself in this or that gleaming surface.As ever,she was taken aback by the fact that her belly preceded her. Butshe wasperfectly well acquainted with the rest of thepackage.Here comes our Dumpy!Isabeau would trill, pretending that itwas an affectionate nickname.Hurry, little hen,she would sayas Nina trailed along behind her, forced to keep asmile onher face and her thoughts on such nicknames toherself.
Isabeau had believedthat she was being hurtful. And given that being hurtful was oneofthemain joys in Princess Isabeau’s pampered life, ithad taken everything Nina had to keep the fact that shewas inno way hurt to herself.Snide remarksfrom aroyal princess really didn’thold a candle to daily life in the orphanage, but Isabeau didn’t haveto know that.
ButIsabeau saw her as a hen, so a henNina became. She dressedas frumpily as possible, because it annoyed thePrincess, herselfa fashion icon.Not only were the clothes she chose not quite right, she made sure they never fit her correctly. She made a grand mess of her hair and pretended she didn’t understand what was the matter with it.
And shetook particular pleasure in forevereating sweets and cakesatIsabeau,whose stridentdedication toher figure bordered onfanatical.
Nina foundshe rather liked thehennishnessof it all today,though. There were manyways she could have dressedfor thisencounter, butshe’dchosen the maternityoutfit that most made her looklike the side of a barn.She could have done her hair,or at least brushed it. Instead, she’dopted to let itdo as it would,frizzingaboutof its ownaccord. Likea rather unkempt blond halo, she thought, pleased, whenshe saw herself in the polished surface of an ancient mask—hanging there on the wall inbronze disapproval.
Thaddeuswas striding forthbriskly, clearly trying to hasten their pace, so she slowed her walk to an ungainly waddle. Then only smiledblandly when the man tried to hurry her along. And went evenslower.
She was determined to dowhat was right, or she wouldn’t have come here.
But thatdidn’tmean she couldn’t enjoyherself in the process.
Thathad been her philosophy throughout her indentured servitude tothePrincess. Shewasthe little orphan girl plucked from obscurityand expected to live in perpetual cringing gratitude for everyscrap thrown her way, when she would have been perfectly happy tobe left to her own devices in her gutter, thank you. Shehad perfected the downcastlook, with an unreadable curve ofher lips that fell somewhere between possible sainthood and theexpected servility.Depending on who was lookingat her.
But she made her ownfun all the same. Her clothes. Her constant sweet and cake consumption, leaving her forever covered in crumbs,which had sentIsabeau into rages.She’doften pretended not tounderstand thethings Isabeau asked ofher, forcing her to askrepeatedly.Andshehad been known to affect deafness when most likely tomake the Princess go spare.
Asubject of the house of Haught Montagne could notopenly defy herPrincess, of course.That was unthinkable.
Butthere were always ways.
Nina reminded herselfthat she’d found those ways once and could do it again, as she walked through another set of gildedarches.More gilded thanbefore, in fact. Her hands crept over her belly, where the babywas moving around, making itself known.She had not actuallyintendedfor this last, final act of rebellion, she could admit,if only to herself.She’dthought that she was perfectly all rightwith the consequences as they were.
But that waswhen the consequences were being ejected from Isabeau’s service andcalled a national disgrace, among a great manyother, lesspolite names, in an endless slew of articles thatwere alwayssourced from unnamed people in Isabeau’s circle—thecurse of the courtiers.
These consequences were abit different than abit of scandal and being called mean namesby terrible people, she thought, leaving one hand onher belly asshe walked.
And thatsame fierce,mad love blazed through her again, the way it did so often thesedays. Maybeshe hadn’tplanned this baby, but shewanted it.She had never loved anything the way she loved the tiny humaninside her. The little gift she couldn’t wait to meet.
Shereminded herself that today was all aboutdetermination. Nothing more.
Thaddeus flung opena suitablyimpressive set of doors with all attendant fanfare,then ledNina inside.
“Your Royal Highness,” he intoned, “may I present Miss NinaGraine. Your...guest.”
Nina blinked as she lookedaround, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. Shefound herself in a vast room flooded with light thatpoured in from exquisitely archedopenings on threesides.They were not so much windows as gracefuldoorsthat letin all that Mediterranean blue, the boundless sun,and thefar-off call of wheeling seabirds.There was the hint of riotous bougainvillea on the terrace outside, and the breeze brought in the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine.
She knew she wasstanding in a room in the palace—very likely theroyal versionof a lounge—but it seemed more likesome kind of temple.
Andas ifsummoned by that thought alone,there was suddenly a farbrighter gleam where the sun was brightest, untilit detached itself fromsuch lesser light and became a man.
Notjust any man.
Zeus.
Bathed in lightas if he’d conjured it andwearing nothing but a pair of flowingwhite trousers that clunglow on his hips.
Ninahated herself, but that didn’t stop the way the sight of himrolled through her, like a song from on high. Exceptthis song camewith heat and licked over her. Her breasts. Her belly. Thesoftness between her legs.
Focus,she ordered herself. He was magnificent, but as a person saddled withthe nameZeus,he would have to be. He had clearly taken hisname as a lifelong challenge.
Achallenge he had met,if not exceeded.
And Nina couldn’thelp but remember, with an unhelpful vividness, that she knewevery inch of him.
