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Stella paused. ‘I’m not dining with Eduardo?’
‘He has business to attend to.’
The little pleasure Stella had felt at discovering the dress disappeared. Now, left alone in the room with the other possible wedding dresses, the full horror of it sank into her bones.
Any dress would have done, right? As would any bride. Rumour had it the upcoming autumn ball was to have been a ‘find a bride’ event in disguise, for the pair of princes. Eduardo didn’t want to marry, but was ‘expected’ to. In other words, at some point he had to. And look what fate had so conveniently provided. A pregnant lover.
Not desired. Not loved. Merely convenient.
Stella rubbed her chilled arms. Could she really go through with this mockery? Even if it was only temporary? Or did she not want to because it was only temporary?
Her heart skipped faster as her thoughts veered too close to the uncomfortable. She knew her parents had loved each other. She’d seen it in the pictures her father had hidden away because they hurt him too much. He’d withdrawn into his work.
At the thought of her mother, fear unfurled.
Impatiently she walked over to the fresh tray that had been delivered to her room. She forced herself to eat, even though she couldn’t be less hungry. Not because Eduardo had told her to, but because the child within her needed sustenance. Stella had to stay strong and healthy. She couldn’t let her child down. She couldn’t make her mum’s mistake.
She ate quickly, quietly, alone. How many times in her life had she eaten with no one to talk to? No companionship. No support. Just a few bites of food—fuel and nothing more.
He has business to attend to.
Was her future to be an echo of her past? Would they share carefully scheduled meetings at mealtimes in which they’d swap shallow pleasantries and stilted conversation?
It would be just like the relationship she had with her father. Work had always come first for him. Clearly it was the same for Eduardo. Fair enough. He was a prince with bigger things to worry about than her fragile ego.
But this was no longer only about her. She didn’t want her child to suffer the way she had.
She forced a few more mouthfuls down and then gave up on the effort. She’d finally realised the full import of this crazy day.
What was best for this baby wasn’t what Eduardo thought. He meant well, but marriage wasn’t necessary. No one ever need know it was his baby. She could rear the child in private and they could all be free to be happy.
Resolve firming, she left her room and swiftly walked along the sumptuous corridors back to the library. It was empty, but in the distance she heard a regular splashing sound.
Business to attend to, huh?
She went out through one of the French doors to the terrace and walked the length of the building, then turned the corner to find a private lap pool. She crept closer, pausing beside a tall column. Wicker chairs covered in plump, pure white cushions sat at angles to each other, but she didn’t take a seat. She couldn’t take her eyes from the strong figure gliding smoothly through the aquamarine water. She watched him complete several lengths, executing perfect tumble turns at each end, easily maintaining that scorching pace.
But halfway through the next length he suddenly stopped and stood. Droplets of water cascaded down his broad shoulders. ‘How long are you going to stand in the shadows watching me?’
He had good eyesight, then. So did she. And right now he looked incredibly athletic. Fit, strong, built.
‘I want to talk to you,’ she said, glad that dusk was darkening the sky and half-hiding the blush she knew was covering every inch of her body.
He levered himself out of the pool in one smooth movement and stood before her. ‘So talk.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re...naked.’ And she was no longer blushing—she was burning.
‘It is my pool.’ He shrugged. ‘My staff know not to bother me.’
‘I’m not staff.’ That was precisely the point she needed to make. She wasn’t going to be ordered about and dismissed. She’d damn well bother him when she wanted to.
He inclined his head. ‘I was not expecting company.’
‘You want to make yourself decent?’ Desperately she glanced around for a towel, to stop herself staring at him like a lust-struck, hormone-drunk wanton.
‘Am I not already?’ He sent her an ironic glance. ‘You were naked before and not embarrassed. I’m not embarrassed by you seeing me. In fact, I quite like it.’
CHAPTER SIX
