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Piero had had high standards, but that had only encouraged Augustine to strive for more.
But more was something he couldn’t do anymore. All he could do was the bare minimum, and the bare minimum wasn’t what he wanted to give his own child. He couldn’t. Not knowing what more that child could and should have had.
Except everything had changed now.
Freddie was pregnant and he was going to be a father whether he wanted to be or not. And while he couldn’t reach the standards for kingship his father had set him, not these days, he knew what Piero would have wanted him to do now.
He had an heir who needed his protection and so did the child’s mother, and marrying her would give them both that protection. It wasn’t much, but it was one thing he could do, so do it he would.
Of course, there were other implications to a royal marriage, but he wasn’t ready to think about those just yet. It was going to be enough of an adjustment having a wife and child.
What about her? What about what she wants?
Well, she’d forfeited that right when she’d tried to hide his child from him. Now all that mattered was what was best for that child. And what was best for that child was to have its father in its life.
Finally, he shifted his weight so he wasn’t lying on her directly, though he didn’t move away. He put his hands on either side of her head and looked down at her.
Her face was flushed, making her dark eyes look even more velvety, black almost. There was a shocked expression on her face, the same kind of shock he could feel moving through himself too. This had happened so fast and he’d lost his control so quickly, crossing every single one of the boundaries he’d set, taking his pregnant PA on the floor like a beast.
She was still shaking, making a wave of intense protectiveness wash over him, and that too, was a shock. He couldn’t allow himself to be protective of anyone since protecting Isavere took up all his attention and energy. He didn’t have any to spare for a person. He’d planned to hand his crown over to someone else who could look after Isavere better than he could, but he couldn’t do the same for a wife and child.
Can you do that, though? Can you look after them both?
She looked away, her hands pushing against his chest. ‘Sir,’ she said huskily. ‘Sir, please.’
‘Sir?’ he murmured, deciding to ignore that thought, bending instead to brush his mouth along the satiny line of her jaw. ‘Surely, not. Not after that.’ Her sweet, musky scent, the scent that had been chasing his dreams for so long, was beginning to make him hard again, which meant he should really move. Except he didn’t. ‘Perhaps in some situations, I would definitely appreciate it, but not now, Freddie.’
She stilled at the sound of her name, her hands on his chest, her fingers spread. He could feel each and every fingertip burning through the cotton of his T-shirt.
‘Although,’ he went on, ‘perhaps I shouldn’t call you that, either?’
She was staring very fixedly at her hands where they rested on his chest, and he caught himself studying her long lashes. He’d never noticed before how dark and silky they were. So pretty.
A silence fell, and he could feel her tension.
‘Look at me,’ he ordered softly. ‘Now, please.’
Her throat moved as she swallowed, and he could see that frantic pulse. He wanted to press his mouth there and taste her again.
But no, there were still some things they needed to discuss.
Finally, her long, thick lashes lifted and those dark eyes met his. He could see fear in them, yet also a steely determination. It surprised him, though it shouldn’t have. She never argued with him and always did what he asked, but she’d never been a pushover.
‘I know what you want,’ she said. ‘You want an answer to your question. You want to know what I was going to do with the baby.’
He didn’t deny it. ‘Sex was a good distraction, sweetheart. Correction, an excellent distraction, and full marks for trying. But it’s not something I’m likely to forget, no matter how good in bed you are.’
The flush in her cheeks deepened, her fear fading as little sparks of anger began to glitter in her eyes.
Fascinated, he stared at them. Freddie never got noticeably angry with him, no matter how short-tempered he was due to fatigue or a headache, or general frustration with his deficiencies. She was always so very patient.
But not now.
‘You were going to give the baby up for adoption, weren’t you?’ he said slowly, watching her, understanding coming to him as he said the words. Because that was it, wasn’t it? There was no other reason not to tell him immediately.
The colour left her face, her dark eyes getting even darker. But she didn’t look away. ‘I couldn’t look after a child. I couldn’t...give a child what it needs. And you said you didn’t want them—you were very clear. So yes, I was. I had a list of families who would give the baby what I couldn’t.’
A curious sensation rippled through him, partly his anger pulling against the leash he’d set on it, and partly a curious respect for her courage. Freddie was a compassionate, caring woman and that decision couldn’t have been an easy one for her. Still, she’d been going to give his child to someone else without consulting him, and regardless of what he’d said to her about not wanting children, that had been the wrong decision to make.
