Bound by the Prince's Baby Read online

  Tris sipped his wine and tried to look as nonchalant as Amber did. ‘I was just showing an interest in everything you said,’ he protested. ‘Ask away. I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  Her snort was frankly disbelieving. ‘In that case, tell me your favourite film.’

  Tris took another sip of his wine and another mouth of cake, barely tasting it. Of course she wasn’t going to let that one lie and why should she? He knew she’d noticed his earlier evasion. ‘I don’t really have a favourite film,’ he confessed and watched her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

  ‘Everybody has a favourite film. Or at least several films they’d find it really hard to decide between; is that what you mean?’

  ‘Not really.’ Tris broke off a piece of cake and crumbled it with his fork. ‘I just haven’t seen a lot of films. I attend premieres on the rare occasion Elsornia hosts them but settling down and watching one isn’t something I do for fun.’

  ‘More of a box set guy? We always have a box set or two on the go at the house. Usually some kind of reality guilty pleasure for when we’re all exhausted and a dark, twisty detective series for the rare occasions when we are alert.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t really watch much TV at all. I don’t read fiction either or listen to much music.’ He might as well pre-empt the inevitable next questions before Amber asked him to name his favourite song or book.

  ‘Not into culture?’ Amber’s eagerness had faded, her body language on high alert as she imperceptibly leaned away from him. ‘Not everyone is, I suppose.’ But her voice was full of doubt.

  ‘It’s not so much that I’m not into it; it’s more that I don’t really know what I like. Taking time out to read, to listen to music or to watch TV wasn’t really encouraged. My father thought activities should be improving. Obviously, a good history documentary or non-fiction book would be tolerated, a visit to the royal box to watch opera or ballet or even live theatre was work and therefore acceptable, but that was it.’

  ‘But your sisters... I was talking to Elisabetta about a show we both liked just yesterday.’

  ‘It was different for my sisters; they lived with my mother, whereas I was brought up here with my father and tutor. My father took my training very seriously; that’s why he didn’t send me to school and wanted to make sure I used every hour wisely.’ Tris deliberately took a large gulp of wine and pushed his plate away. Amber had been so candid with him earlier, had even confessed that she had told him things she’d never told anyone else before, and her trust in him was the greatest gift he’d ever been given. But he didn’t know how to return it, didn’t know how to put into words how it had been, growing up here on his own with the weight of expectation crushing him, feeling guilty for missing his mother and sisters, guilty for resenting his father and the regime imposed on him.

  He started as Amber laid a warm hand on his, her touch shooting through him. ‘Tris, you’ve been an adult for a long time now; your father died a decade ago. Haven’t you ever been tempted to do things another way? To veg out and binge on a box set or a really good book?’

  ‘Tempted? Of course, all the time. But my father was right; there’s always too much to do to relax. Duty comes first. Besides—’ honesty compelled him to continue ‘—like I said earlier, I don’t know where to start. Even if I had the time, I wouldn’t know what to choose.’ Tris stopped, embarrassed. Not knowing was weakness and weakness was intolerable in a king. He didn’t want to look at Amber and see pity in her face.

  Amber jumped to her feet and gathered up the plates and her cup. ‘I can see I’m going to have my work cut out,’ she said. ‘Not only am I going to have to teach you to bake, but I’m going to have to teach you to relax as well. I’m going to need to up my rates. My agency is very expensive, you know, and right now you’re getting a lot of hours.’

  ‘Oh, I know how to relax,’ Tris said, and Amber laughed.

  ‘You’re going to have to prove that to me, I’m afraid.’ She smiled over at him and their eyes held. Despite, or maybe because of, the lateness of the hour, the confidences shared, Tris could feel his pulse begin to race, the blood rushing around his body heightening every nerve, every sinew, every muscle. He couldn’t take his gaze off Amber as her smile wavered and disappeared as she visibly swallowed. He’d desired the elegant bridesmaid in her silk and jewels, but he wanted this tousled, flour-spattered baking goddess so much more. She wasn’t an illusion, a dream, a siren ready to seduce and be seduced, but so real she made his heart and body ache, thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

  Slowly, purposefully, Tris got to his feet, the invisible thread connecting their gazes, their bodies, tightening. ‘I can absolutely prove it to you. Any time.’ He took a step closer and then another as Amber stood still, as if paralysed. There was no champagne to fuel him, no violins serenading them, no stars to witness, just two of them in the dimly lit kitchen, the scent of vanilla and lemon and sugar permeating the air.

  All Tris knew was that he had mishandled the situation from the moment he’d set foot in the lawyer’s office in Paris. He’d allowed hurt and anger to guide him, keeping Amber at a dignified arm’s length, too proud to woo her. He’d blamed her for deceiving him without ever considering her reasons. He shouldn’t have had to listen to her starkly told tale of loneliness to trust her. He’d been in the wrong all those years ago and he was in the wrong now. Elisabetta was right; if he wasn’t careful, he was going to give Amber every reason to walk away, taking their child with her.

  It wasn’t just anger and wounded dignity that had made him keep Amber at a distance. The Tris who danced and flirted and seduced wasn’t the Tris who worked so tirelessly and endlessly to keep Elsornia healthy and profitable. He barely recognised the man he’d been that night—and that was the man Amber had chosen. Not the workaholic prince who never even took time out to watch a film and couldn’t name his favourite song. How could he compete with the fairy tale he’d pretended to be? But how could he not? Not just because he needed Amber to want to stay, but because he needed her. All of her.

  Tris pushed away the warning voice reminding him just how badly this could go, pushed away the memories of his mother’s unhappiness as his father put duty before their marriage and her needs time and time again. His father had done his best to make him in his image and mostly he’d succeeded, but couldn’t Tris do better here? With Amber staring at him, eyes wide, full mouth parted, sweet, beguiling and so beautiful she took his breath away, he had no choice but to try.

  Slowly, slowly he sauntered across the floor towards her. Amber made no move to meet him but neither did she retreat. She simply stood stock-still, luminous green eyes fixed on him, her full mouth half parted, her chest rising and falling. Tris stopped still a pace away and held out his hand. There could be no seduction, no coercion, no expectation. No champagne or stars or beguiling words, but a meeting of equals.

  Amber didn’t move for several long, long seconds and then finally, just as Tris was beginning to wonder if he had imagined the whole connection between them, she took his hand and half stepped a little closer. Neither spoke, fingers entwined as Tris reached out and drew a finger down her cheek, lingering slightly on her lips before skimming down the long column of her neck, finally resting on her shoulder. She barely moved as he touched her, just an almost imperceptible tremble, her eyes half closing. One more step and she was snug against him, her breasts soft against his chest, long firm legs pressed to his, the warmth of her hair on his cheek.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about kissing you again ever since I woke up the morning after the wedding,’ Tris said hoarsely.

  ‘In that case you should go ahead.’ Amber smiled up at him as she spoke, her shy yet teasing smile full of promise and anticipation. Heat flooded him. She wanted him, physically at least, and that was far more than he deserved. But only a fool would turn down such an invitation. Slowly, savouring every millisecond, Tris ran his hand a
long her shoulder, cupping the glorious weight of her hair as he reached the tender skin at the nape of her neck before dipping his head to cover her mouth with his.

  Last time they had both been too impatient. The moment they’d kissed had been incendiary, sending them both into a dizzying spiral straight into his bed. Despite the insistent demands of his body, Tris had no intention of taking Amber back to his room tonight. Nor, tempting as it was, was he planning to seduce her in the palace kitchens. This kiss wasn’t about seduction but about wooing and so he started slow, nibbling her lower lip, holding her gently as if she were made of porcelain. It was almost more than he could bear, the slow, sweet kiss, harder than anything he’d ever done before as he gently but firmly stopped Amber from speeding things up, holding her lightly, not allowing himself to explore her curves even as she pressed against him. He was playing a long game here, not looking for the easy victory, and so he allowed himself to savour every moment of the kiss, to take in every detail, the fresh floral scent of her hair, her sweet vanilla taste, part-cake part-her, the warmth of her touch, the way her fingers entwined in his, caressing and holding, the softness of her mouth, a mouth made for kissing and being kissed. He needed to savour and remember, imprinting every touch and sensation in his memory.

  It was a long time since Tris had believed that his future held anything but duty and responsibility. But standing here, the most beautiful and beguiling woman he’d ever met in his arms, he knew that he had a chance at something more. His future was in her hands. As, he suspected, was his heart.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AMBER COULD TELL that it was late when she woke the next morning, the angle of the sun slanting into her bedroom a tell-tale clue. She stretched, savouring the sweetness that came from a good night’s sleep. It had been late, very late, when she’d finally got to bed. She and Tris had done their best to return the kitchen to the spotless state she’d found it in, hiding every trace of their night-time antics. Baking always made her feel better but for once it wasn’t the soothing action of creating that had enabled her to fall into the deep sleep she needed, but those minutes, those wonderful, frustrating, unforgettable moments she’d spent in Tris’s arms.

  What on earth had happened? One moment she’d been telling Harriet that she had made a terrible mistake, allowing a teenage crush and a night’s illusion to give her false hope that she might forge a lasting relationship with Tris, the next she’d found herself confiding in him in a way she’d confided in nobody, not even her friends. Not only that, but he had started to let her in, not all the way, but she understood him a lot more than she had this time yesterday.

  And then there were the kisses. Just as intoxicating as she remembered, turning her body limp with desire, her brain to a single-minded entity wanting nothing more than him. She’d yearned for far more than sweet, chaste kisses but this morning she was grateful for Tris’s restraint. Their situation was complicated enough without adding sex into it. Of course, some might point out that that particular horse had already bolted but it wasn’t the physical consequences of lovemaking that concerned her; it was the emotional ones. Not that she’d been thinking so clearly last night. If the timer hadn’t gone off when it had, Amber wasn’t sure Tris would have managed to stay so restrained either...

  But a proper conversation and a few kisses didn’t solve anything. Yes, she felt a little closer to Tris, but whether that closeness would still exist in the morning light she had yet to find out. One thing she knew: she couldn’t leave her future in either Tris’s or fate’s hands; it was time to take some control of her destiny. No more waiting around for Tris to talk to her or let her in; she was ready to start battering down the drawbridge if that was what she had to do.

  Reluctantly, Amber pushed back the sheets and swung her feet to the floor. She wasn’t going to solve anything or change anything lying in bed, nor was she going to get where she needed to be living in a luxurious apartment two staircases and three corridors away from Tris, surrounded by servants and aides and soldiers.

  Pulling on her robe, she padded upstairs to her turret-top terrace, texting Tris as she did so, rewarded five minutes later when he walked in carrying a tray heaped with fresh fruit, coffee and still warm pastries.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said and then looked at the sun. ‘Or should I say good afternoon?’

  Amber was acutely aware that she was still in her pyjamas and robe, her hair barely brushed, her face make-up-free, although she had managed to clean her teeth. But she wanted intimacy and there was nothing as intimate as breakfast. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been up for hours?’

  ‘Since six,’ he said and laughed as she pulled a horrified face.

  ‘That’s less than four hours sleep; you’d better sit down and have a pastry. As you may have realised last night, I’m a firm believer that food solves everything, even if you don’t make it yourself.’

  ‘Yes, last night was very informative.’

  Amber felt her cheeks heat at the unexpectedly teasing tone in Tris’s voice. ‘I’m glad you thought so.’ She managed to keep her own tone light. ‘I’m planning a repeat as soon as possible. You made a very creditable cake; more lessons are definitely in order.’

  ‘With a teacher like you, how can I fail to improve?’

  Amber was fully aware that Tris wasn’t really talking about baking. ‘I don’t know; it seems to me that you weren’t quite as inexperienced as I thought.’

  This was definite progress, sitting here in the late spring sunshine enjoying brunch together, the conversation easy yet intimate with a subtext only they understood, but there was still a long way to go. Tris hadn’t touched her since he’d arrived, let alone kissed her; there was still a distance between them, physically and mentally. Amber’s parents had touched all the time, little caresses and pats, careless kisses dropped on cheeks and foreheads, hands reaching for each other automatically. She hadn’t realised as a child how rare that casual intimacy was between married couples; it was something she’d always expected to experience herself one day. Now, even though she knew it was rare, she still yearned for a marriage as complete as her parents’ had been.

  Maybe it was unfair to expect that kind of relationship from a man who had had a very different kind of childhood. But last night there had been glimpses of another Tris, of the man she had danced and laughed and made love with just a few weeks ago.

  She sipped her coffee and summoned up her courage. ‘I have a request.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘I thought we discussed the folly of making unlimited promises last night. What if I asked for half the kingdom or insisted you only served pink food? Although you might find either of those requests a little easier to agree to.’

  ‘Intriguing.’ But Tris looked more wary than intrigued.

  ‘I’d like you to take a vacation. A fortnight somewhere here in Elsornia that you really love. Not the castle, not surrounded by servants and guards and bureaucrats and people needing you every second of the day, but somewhere where we can just be ourselves. Somewhere I don’t have to sneak into the kitchen to bake if I don’t want to be surrounded by sous chefs trying to anticipate my every need.’

  Tris put down his coffee, his forehead creased. ‘Amber, I understand, I really do, but it’s not that easy for me to just take time off.’

  She held up her hand to forestall the inevitable reasons why. ‘I don’t mean today. This time next week I’m flying to London for a couple of days to have my twelve-week scan. I don’t expect you to come with me; in fact it’s easier if you don’t, not until we have a better idea of our future. All it needs is one picture leaked to the press of you and me near a maternity unit and our secret is out.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Tris agreed, but he was wearing the shuttered look that frustrated her so much, hiding his real thoughts and emotions from her.

  With a deep breath, Amber continued. ‘Normally, if this sca
n is okay, which, fingers crossed it is, I wouldn’t need to have another one until about twenty weeks. But if you want I could book a private scan for sixteen weeks. That’s a good time to find out the sex of the baby with some accuracy. I do understand how important having a son is to you. If the baby is a girl...’

  ‘If the baby is a girl I still want to marry you.’ Tris’s jaw was set, his grey eyes dark with an emotion she couldn’t identify. She tightened her hold on her cup, wishing the coffee had the kick of caffeine she needed to help sharpen her mind. Did he mean that? Or was he saying what he thought she wanted to hear? But through the doubt there was a tinge of relief—she would rather wait to find out the sex of the baby. She’d always imagined having a family of her own and, so far, none of this pregnancy had borne any resemblance to those dreams. It would be lovely to keep an element of surprise and anticipation, no matter what happened.

  Choosing her words carefully, she looked over at him. ‘I appreciate you saying that, I really do, but surely if we know the baby’s a girl it would simplify things somewhat? I know co-parenting without marriage will be tricky for you, with the eyes of the world on you the way they are. And I’m fully aware of how difficult life will be for the illegitimate daughter of the King, if her parentage was known. But it would be just as difficult if she was brought up with parents who marry for the wrong reasons. I’m not willing to sacrifice all our happiness for a throne, Tris. I know your parents weren’t happy; surely you don’t want to repeat that history with your own children?’

  ‘I promise to do all that is in my power to make you happy,’ Tris said stiffly and Amber raised her hand and laid it upon his cheek.

  ‘I know, and I also know that I can’t rely on you or anyone for my happiness, that I have to take responsibility for myself. But marriage does need two people’s focus to make it work, even ones with a much more auspicious start than ours, and my worry is how much of that focus will be actually in your power and how much you will sacrifice to duty. How much we will have to sacrifice to duty. So please, when I get back from London, let’s spend time alone, just the two of us, and decide if this is something that we can both not just live with, but want to live with.’