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Winifred held on tight to her patience. Letting her emotions get the better of her was a foolish thing to do—it might even promptmorequestions. Better to stay in control, to remain cool and calm the way she always did.
‘I told you,’ she said. ‘It was a one-night affair. He won’t be arriving anywhere let alone Isavere. If you don’t mind, sir, I have a spreadsheet I have to—’
‘He must have been quite something,’ Augustine interrupted, as if she hadn’t spoken, his gaze merciless. ‘Tell me, was it good?’
Heat flared inside her, and she could feel her cheeks burning. Yes, ithadbeen good. She’d forgotten everything. Even where she was. Even who she was. And now, here he was, forcing her to relive it for reasons she couldn’t even begin to guess at. How dare he?
Anger stirred and before she could think better of it, she said, ‘What kind of question is that? But yes, as it happens, itwasgood. And hewassomething. In fact, he was the best night of my life. Would you like a diagram perhaps? An in-depth report on everything we did together? Sadly we didn’t take a video, but if we had one, I’d gladly play it for you.’
If her tone bothered him, Augustine didn’t show it. He simply stared at her a moment more, then shifted, drawing his legs in, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. ‘You trusted him,’ he said.
Yet more shock jolted her. She stared back, abruptly struggling to catch her breath, the simple statement driving all the air from her lungs.
‘You trusted him,’ Augustine repeated as if she hadn’t heard him. ‘And if you trusted him, you knew him.’
Something shook inside her, the fear she’d finally let go of as more time had passed between that night and the present. The fear that he’d recognise her. The fear that had returned full force when she realised she was pregnant.
If he discovered that he was the father of her baby...
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps he’ll claim the child for himself, and you wouldn’t have to give him or her up for adoption.
Perhaps. Her child was a prince or princess after all, the heir to the throne, and she knew how he felt about his kingdom. It was important to him. Maintaining the legacy his father had left was important to him.
Yet...he’d been so certain he didn’t want children that he’d had a vasectomy. His life was difficult and she had a ringside seat as to just how difficult. Also, if she told him she was pregnant, he’d have to contend with the fact that they’d slept together. That he hadn’t known who she was and then that she hadn’t told him. He might not actually fire her, but he wouldn’t want her being his assistant again.
Everything would change. Everything.
The only thing that matters is that your baby is loved. And is brought up far away from you.
Winifred felt tears prickle in her eyes, which was unacceptable. She didn’t deserve to indulge herself like this. She had to be practical. Giving her baby up was the only way.
Blinking back the tears fiercely, she leaned forward, opening up her laptop again. ‘I have work to do, sir,’ she said. ‘If you want these spreadsheets done on time, you need to let me do them.’
There was a long moment of silence.
Abruptly she heard him move, pushing himself out of the chair and getting to his feet. She expected him to return to his position at the back of the plane, but he didn’t. Instead, one large, long-fingered hand gently but surely pushed her laptop closed again.
She looked up at him in surprise.
The expression on his beautiful face was hard to read as was the look in his eyes. ‘You’re tired,’ he said quietly. ‘And I have upset you.’
Yet more shock rippled through her. ‘What? No, I—’
‘The spreadsheets can wait while you rest and catch up on some sleep.’ He lifted his hand, at his most commanding. ‘Come, Freddie. I won’t be using the bedroom on the flight so you might as well.’
She had seen him in all his moods and she knew them all well. When he was angry, or tired, or in pain. When he was satisfied. When he was pleased. Happiness was something he didn’t seem to feel and that grieved her, and really, that was at the heart of why she didn’t let his occasional snappishness and impatience get to her. The moments where he struggled with the effects of his brain injury. He could be difficult, yet he always apologised afterwards when he was, and really, she only wanted to make him happy.
But she couldn’t tell what his mood was now, because when he was being the King, he hid everything. And he was definitely being the King now, every inch of him royal.
She couldn’t resist him—no one could—and so she found herself taking his hand and letting him draw her to her feet.
A mistake.
He didn’t touch her. Ever. So she wasn’t prepared for the electricity that crackled over her skin as their fingers touched and she had to bite down on a gasp to hide it. He betrayed no reaction, though she thought she saw something flicker through his gaze. It was gone the next minute however, as his hand opened and he let her go almost as soon as she was on her feet.
‘The spreadsheets,’ she began, wanting to say something to cover her own awkwardness at the moment.
‘I don’t need them right now.’ He gestured to the aisle that led down the back of the plane. ‘You need some rest, so please go and take some.’
