Bound by the Prince's Baby Page 5

  Amber held up one slender, pale hand. ‘I don’t think we’ve been introduced.’ Her voice matched his uncle’s in disdain. ‘Just as we had not been introduced on the occasion of my eighteenth birthday when you sat discussing my dowry, my future, my body, without once considering my wishes.’

  Laying a calming hand on his uncle’s arm, Tris pressed him back into his seat. ‘This is my uncle, the Duke of Eleste. And you’re right, Amber. We were wrong that day to enter into negotiations without you. I assumed your grandmother had discussed the proposal with you; I should have ensured that she had before signing anything. But I think we both know I have been punished for that presumption over the last eight years.’

  Amber inclined her head, her cheeks still pale, just a spot of colour burning in the centre of them, the warm blush accentuating the cut of her fine bones, the tilt of her chin. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But,’ Tris continued; this was not a one-way blame game, no matter what she told herself, ‘you were also wrong to just run away. That was the act of a naughty schoolgirl, not a princess.’

  Only a faint quiver showed that his words had struck home. ‘If you had ever bothered to get to know me...’ Her eyes were still fixed on his, as if there was no one else in the room. Her lawyer had stopped remonstrating, his uncle silenced by Tris’s gesture. ‘If you had ever tried, then you would have known that I was still very much a schoolgirl at heart, even if my grandmother didn’t present me as anything but the Princess-in-waiting. If you had bothered to get to know me then you would have known that my hopes and dreams didn’t lie in the direction of a throne and a handsome prince.’ Her voice was scathing now. ‘All I wanted, just like my father before me, was a normal life. That’s all I still want. What I have worked for every second since I left.’

  ‘It’s been two months.’ Tris didn’t have the capacity to properly consider her bitter words right now. There was too much truth in them for any quick resolution. He knew that back then uncertainty and the need to find his place in a world where his destiny was so set had made him come across as arrogant. No, not just come across as arrogant; he had been arrogant. Arrogant, single-minded and resolute. The last few years, with his destiny suddenly so uncertain, had chipped away at the arrogance, if not the reserve. The only time he had really lost his reserve had been at Laurent’s wedding. How unspeakably ironic that it was with this woman. ‘Two months since you and I spent time together. I told you I wasn’t free; I thought you were aware why. I will absolve you of any deliberate malice towards me before that date. But I’m struggling to understand why, knowing what you know, it’s taken you two months to come forward.’

  ‘I was going to write. That’s why I engaged a lawyer. I was hoping that you would never have to know who I really was.’ Amber’s gaze finally broke from his and she looked over at the window, her eyes focusing on the street outside. ‘When we... I knew who you were. Of course I did. And I admit I was intrigued. How could I not be? With so much history linking us. But that’s what I thought it was, I swear to you. History. I have never once considered myself engaged to you, Tris. And it didn’t once occur to me that a betrothal entered into eight years ago, without my consent, thousands of miles away, was still considered valid. I didn’t know the entire truth until the next day, when Laurent’s mother told me everything.’

  Tris briefly closed his eyes. What a mess and, unlike Amber, he knew it was a mess all of his own making.

  ‘I take it—’ the Duke finally spoke ‘—that you are here to revoke the betrothal agreement. That you have decided to do so in person.’ Tris could see the machinations behind the smooth expressionless face. His uncle knew as well as he did that they had five years. Five years for Tris to find a wife and father a son. No doubt his uncle had already prepared a list of suitable candidates who would be ready to wed him within the month. He should be relieved. Was relieved. His life could move forward at last. He wasn’t going to dwell on why he suddenly felt so bereft.

  For the first time, Amber faltered. Tris watched her throat move as she swallowed, reaching blindly out for the water in front of her, her gaze still fastened on the window, maybe dreaming once more of escape. ‘Tris, I need to speak to you alone.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea...’

  ‘Tris, leave the details to me.’

  His uncle and the lawyer spoke in unison. But their words were just background noise; all Tris was aware of was Amber. She sat fully erect, her hands folded in front of her, mouth set firm. She was every inch the Princess she was so desperate not to be.

  ‘So be it.’ He turned to his uncle. ‘Thank you for accompanying me here today, but I need to do this by myself. Actually, Amber and I need to do this by ourselves. If this betrothal had started that way, maybe we wouldn’t be ending it here today.’

  After a quick, sharp glance at him, his uncle nodded, standing up and moving towards the door. ‘I will wait for you outside.’

  Amber nodded at her lawyer who, with a slightly anguished backward glance at his client, followed the Duke out of the office. The door closed firmly behind them.

  Finally, they were alone. The silence echoed around them until Tris could hear every beat of his pulse, the thunder of his heartbeat as he waited for Amber to say the words severing the link between them. But after one quick glance in his direction she stayed still and silent.

  Despite everything, Tris was conscious of an urge to hold her, to take her tightly folded hands in his, to touch her expressionless face and coax a smile from her bloodless lips. He still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t reconcile the laughing, flirtatious, fiery bridesmaid with this marble statue.

  Nor could he believe he hadn’t recognised her at the wedding. True, he hadn’t seen her for many years, but her photograph had been on his desk for all that time—an attempt to familiarise himself with the woman who was supposed to have been sharing his life. Not that the gawky teen in the photo bore any resemblance to the woman who sat before him.

  ‘We are alone,’ he said, absurdly aware of how redundant the phrase was. ‘Whatever you need to say to me, say it. We both know why we’re here. Set yourself free.’

  In one fluid movement Amber stood, turning to face him, her face so pale she was almost translucent. ‘It’s true that once I realised that you still considered yourself betrothed to me, once I realised what that meant for you, I planned to end the betrothal.’

  ‘Planned?’ Tris tried to dampen down the unwanted hope rising inside him.

  ‘I don’t want to be a princess or queen or live anywhere but London. But we don’t always get what we want, do we, Tris?’

  Nothing she was saying made any sense. This was the woman who had run away with barely anything but the clothes she stood in, in order not to marry him. But, of course, this was also the woman who had shared one of the most passionate nights—if he was being honest, the most passionate night—of his life with him.

  ‘No, we don’t. But Amber, you always had a choice. Nobody was ever going to drag you to the altar. You could have said no at any time.’

  She flushed. ‘I appreciate that now but, as I said before, I was very young. My grandmother is very formidable when she wants something. All she ever wanted was to see me on a throne, any throne. Saying no sounds so much easier than actually doing it.’

  ‘Your grandmother is not here now. Say no, Amber. End it.’

  ‘It’s not that easy, Tris. You see, I’m pregnant.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AMBER SANK INTO the nearest chair, relieved that she was finally alone, and began to take in her surroundings. She’d spent her teens living in lavish if uncomfortable opulence, but she’d never seen anything like this before. Whoever had designed the suite she’d been allotted in the royal castle of Elsornia had taken luxury and mixed it with style and comfort to create something truly stunning. From the antique four-poster bed, hung with silk, to the brocade-covered wa
lls, her allotted bedroom was perfect.

  Almost perfect.

  Oh, sure, it had a huge bathroom, too big to be a mere en suite, and the kind of walk-in wardrobe guaranteed to induce envy in all her friends, stairs leading down to an equally beautiful sitting room and study. Windows looked out onto views of rolling hills and green fields with snow-capped mountains rising beyond and the whole suite was tastefully and newly decorated in delicate silvery grey, blue and aqua, priceless antiques juxtaposed with expensive, handmade designer modern furniture. If she was to design an apartment for herself, money no object, then she would probably have designed something very similar to the rooms she now surveyed. But not here. Not in Elsornia, not in a castle and definitely not in rooms located in a tower.

  No doubt Tris—or more likely his housekeeper—had thought it was every girl’s dream to have a fairy-tale suite of rooms set on two floors in the turret of a medieval castle. But, having spent six long years staring out of the tower windows at Central Park at a world she was not allowed to be part of, Amber knew there was nothing lonelier than a tower.

  ‘That’s it!’ Amber jumped up and headed to the curved staircase in the corner of her bedroom, which she had been told led up to the large terrace topping the turret. Sure enough, she emerged out onto a spectacular circular paved terrace. A glass roof covered half of the space, chairs and a sofa arranged enticingly beneath, a cosy blanket draped on the back of the sofa. She stepped out onto the exposed stone floor and inhaled the bracing spring air, the breeze refreshing on her skin.

  Another deep breath of the clean air helped clear her head and she winced at the thought of how close she had come to a good bout of self-pitying tears. ‘No more feeling sorry for yourself, Amber Blakeley. You are no longer a child and you’re not a prisoner. You can sulk and feel sorry for yourself and spend the next few weeks feeling unhappy and resentful or you can make the best of it. After all, Tris is right. Like it or not, you were raised to cope with all this. You had eight years of freedom; now it’s time to grow up.’

  She wandered over to the carved stone balustrade and leaned on it, looking out over the formal palace gardens to the countryside beyond. Shivering, Amber pulled her cashmere cardigan closer around her, eyes blurring with cold as she stared out at the mountains with their promise of escape. It was insane how quickly her life had changed. Less than a week had passed since the meeting in the lawyer’s office in France and, instead of interviewing new nannies for the agency as her work calendar said she should be doing, she had flown on a private jet to spend a month in a country she had sworn never to set foot in. Her friends and their partners now all knew her identity and the circumstances that had led to her leaving New York, and they all knew of her pregnancy and what that might mean for Tris and his country.

  But throughout the revelations and the confessions and the arrangements she had clung onto one resolution: she wasn’t here to rush into a marriage; she was here for a trial before making a decision that would irrevocably bind her life to Tris’s and all that came with him. Her hand slipped down to splay over her still flat stomach. Who was she kidding? Their lives were already irrevocably bound. But that didn’t have to mean marriage, didn’t have to mean spending her life here. There were just too many unknowns.

  At least she had ensured the betrothal agreement was nullified before she set foot on Elsornian soil. Any future agreement between her and Tris would be their decision to make and theirs only. She had also received a promise that her stay would be both low-key and anonymous; if she didn’t marry Tris then there was no reason for anyone outside their immediate circles to know who she was.

  One priority was finding out what he wanted to do if the baby was a girl. Would he expect her to provide him with a son within the next five years? Her hands tightened on the balustrade. One child, a baby already on the way, was one thing, but planning a second...? Giving him a son would mean a full marriage in every way. And what if the hypothetical second child wasn’t a boy either? She might need to give him a third, or even a fourth...

  Giggling a little hysterically, she tried to ignore the heat stealing through her body at the thought. ‘Making the babies isn’t the issue, is it?’ she asked herself aloud, her words falling into the stillness. ‘After all, if you weren’t attracted to Tris then you wouldn’t be in this situation, would you? Although there’s a world of difference between having one baby and signing up to be a baby-making machine.’

  She giggled again at the image, her smile quickly fading as the reality of what marriage to Tris would mean sank in. Attraction wasn’t the problem. She’d felt its exquisite ache in Paris, despite her embarrassment and the awkwardness of the situation. But from the moment Tris had learned her identity he had been all urbane, polished politeness. Gone was the darkly desirable best man who had turned her head and in his place was the perfect Prince. But perfect princes were not the happy-ever-after she had dreamt of.

  A chime rang out through the terrace, breaking into her thoughts and, turning, Amber saw a light on an intercom by the terrace door. Amber walked over, hands shaking as she pressed the button. Was it Tris? She wasn’t ready for a tête-à-tête. Not yet.

  ‘Hello?’ To her relief her voice sounded steady, showing a confidence she certainly didn’t feel.

  ‘Hi, Amber. It’s Elisabetta—Tristano’s sister. Is now a good time? Tell me if not. I promise not to be offended!’ Amber sagged against the wall, thankful that not only was her unexpected guest not Tris but by the friendliness in Elisabetta’s voice.

  ‘Now is fine. Hold on while I figure out how to buzz you in.’ She pressed a green button and heard the unmistakable sound of a door unlocking and, after giving Elisabetta a good few seconds to push the door open, released the button and made her way back down the curving stairs to meet the Elsornian Princess in the sitting room two floors below.

  Tris’s sister was standing by the window when Amber arrived, but she rushed over to greet Amber with a continental double kiss followed by a hug. An exceptionally pretty girl of around Amber’s own age, the Princess had Tris’s colouring, her dark hair worn long and loose, grey eyes sparking with a life and mischief her brother rarely displayed as far as Amber could see. Chicly and expensively dressed in a short woollen dress teamed with knee-length leather boots and a scarf knotted with elegant nonchalance, Elisabetta’s smile was warm and seemed genuinely friendly and Amber returned it; it was so good to see a friendly face.

  ‘Here you are at last! I’ve been dying to meet you for ever, although I quite understand why you went MIA. I am fully aware how high-handed Tris and our esteemed uncle were. Betrothal agreements indeed, the idiots. But I am very happy that you have decided to give Tris a second chance—he’s not so stuffy when you get to know him. But I guess you know that, or you wouldn’t be here.’

  Amber had no idea how to respond. She didn’t know how much Tris had told his sister about her visit here, if anyone apart from the two of them—and her friends—knew about their pregnancy.

  ‘Hi.’ It seemed an inadequate response to the voluble, friendly greeting she had received, but Elisabetta didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘So, Tris has asked me to give you a hand until you know your way around a bit more. You have your own assistant, of course—you’ve met Maria? Good. Maria is fantastic and will be able to help you with anything you need. She grew up here; there’s nothing she doesn’t know. If you need anything at any time, just ring the bell here.’ Elisabetta indicated a rope pull hanging in the corner.

  Amber couldn’t help raising her eyebrows at the sight. ‘An actual bell?’

  ‘Oh, yes, the walls are so thick that even though Tris has tried to modernise the whole castle, it’s easier to stick with the old ways. The Wi-Fi is always cutting out unless you are on the ground floor or up on the roof.’

  ‘Maria showed me to my room; she seems very nice and her English is flawless.’

  ‘Her mother
is English and she went to London for a couple of years after school so she is pretty much a native speaker. Her grandmother was a lady-in-waiting to my grandmother, but in those days the poor girls were expected to be in traditional dress with hair neatly plaited at all times of the day and night. At least there’s a night staff nowadays. Some of Tris’s reforms are more successful than the Wi-Fi has been.’

  Maria’s appointment as her assistant might be a coincidence, but Amber couldn’t help wondering if Tris had purposely picked a fluent English speaker to help her settle in. ‘I hear that Elsornian is a mixture of French, Italian and a sprinkling of German; is that correct?’

  Elisabetta nodded. ‘You could say that, but it’s a little bit more complicated. We have many words unknown in any other dialect or language. But don’t worry, most people speak English and really appreciate anyone trying just a few words of Elsornian.’

  ‘Hopefully, I’ll pick some up. Luckily, I speak tourist-level French, Italian and German...’ actually diplomatic-level, thanks to her grandmother ‘...and I’ve picked up a little Armarian over the last year, but I’m no natural linguist. Every word has been learned by repetition and more repetition.’

  ‘Any help you need, just ask either me or Maria,’ Elisabetta said. ‘And when my sisters are home, I know they’ll say the same. The palace can seem a little stuffy, so you’ll need as many guides as possible to explain the crazy etiquette, who everyone is and, more importantly, all the secret ways we pretend don’t exist. Our ancestors were robber barons, you know, so this place is a smugglers’ paradise, even if the contraband is only teenagers breaking curfew nowadays!’

  ‘Thank you.’ Amber meant it wholeheartedly; it had been hard enough to wrench herself away from the life she had built for herself, but to leave her friends behind, not knowing if she would return, to consider a move to a new country had been almost more than she could bear. Elisabetta’s frank, open friendliness was a balm to her soul. ‘In that case, there is something you could help me with. I really want to explore the gardens, but I’m not ready to face anyone yet.’ Amber was uncomfortably aware that by anyone she meant Tris. ‘Do you think you could introduce me to one of those secret ways you just mentioned?’