The Pregnant Princess Read online

  The concierge attendant led them to their room and didn’t blink an eye when Rafe told him they had no luggage. “Very good, sir,” was the man’s only reaction before he shut the door, leaving the two of them standing in the foyer of the spacious suite.

  “I’m impressed,” she said lightly, trying to conceal the sudden attack of nerves that assailed her. “Don’t they usually reserve these for the folks who drop a significant bundle with their establishment every year?”

  “There are ways around that.” Rafe prowled the room like the great tigers they’d just seen, opening doors and cabinets. He gestured. “The bedroom’s through here. Why don’t you lie down for a while?”

  She was tired, even if she hated to admit it to him. The day had been full of fun and excitement and a lot of walking—more than she was accustomed to, if she was honest. While she hadn’t gained a great deal of weight yet, the eight pounds she’d added to her slender frame made a difference and her feet were aching.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked. The thought of sleeping in the single bedroom of the suite while Rafe prowled the living area made her feel vulnerable in a not entirely reasonable way. Which was stupid, she reflected, when she slept in his home every night.

  Still, their bedroom suites were at opposite ends of the hallway in his house and she didn’t even see him after dinner unless she so chose.

  “I’ll find something to occupy an hour or two,” he assured her. “I’ll go downstairs and gamble away enough money to make our hosts happy. I’ll be back near six, though, because I want to show you the volcano outside the hotel and then watch the pirate ship battle the British down at Treasure Island. You have to see it to believe it. Somewhere in there, we’ll get some dinner.”

  “That sounds lovely.” She smiled at him across the room and his gaze seemed to snare her so that she couldn’t look away. His eyes were deeply blue and compelling, as if he were willing her toward him. The moment stretched and shimmered between them.

  In a deep, rough voice, he said, “Lovely enough for another kiss?”

  Every nerve in her body sprang to life. She wanted to kiss him and she didn’t. Stalling, she said, “Is that the price for today?”

  He was already starting across the room. “No price tag on the day,” he said. “This would be purely a bonus for extraordinary service.”

  He was directly in front of her now, and she had to tilt her head back to see his face. “Well,” she said, “I guess you should get a bonus. It’s been a pretty spectacular day.” She lowered her gaze to the open neck of the shirt he wore, waiting for him to take the lead.

  “But I’m not allowed to kiss you, remember?” He was breathing faster and his eyes were even more intense than usual, narrowed and brilliant with desire, but there was indulgent humor in his voice.

  “I’d forgotten,” she said. “In that case…” Taking a deep breath for courage, she stepped closer and lifted her hands to his shoulders to balance herself, then stood on tiptoe. “Thank you,” she whispered and pressed a soft kiss to his smiling lips, momentarily molding her mouth to his firm, warm one.

  His hands came up to her wrists, holding her in place, and he made a sound of approval deep in his throat. Then before she could back away, his mouth shifted against hers, hardening in demand. The kiss became his instead of hers and she whimpered at the surge of sensation that tightened her body with a desire she’d been suppressing for days.

  Her hands gripped his shoulders and he slid his own down from her wrists, traveling over the curves of her body as he held her mouth with his, demanding a response that she gave without thinking, without hesitation. His thumbs briefly caressed her hipbones, still evident despite the mound of his child in her womb, and then he gripped her soft curves, pulling her against him and shocking her system with the hard warm promise of his big body.

  This, she thought hazily, was what she’d remembered from their first meeting, this magnetic pull that erased conscious decision and attracted her to him. Opposite charges creating a bond. The hard probe of his tongue sought out every response from her own; his muscled arms and shoulders blocked out the light as he loomed over her, making her feel small and fragile. Against her belly, taut masculine flesh swelled, and when he lifted her off her feet and his arousal found the hidden pocket of warmth at her thighs, her startled intake of breath matched the groan wrenched from his throat.

  This was the man about whom she’d woven her foolish fantasies, the man whose skillful hands and hard body had claimed her, making it impossible for her to forget him. She had to remember…what? Her distracted thoughts whirled in her head under the sensual onslaught, and as desire mounted it became less and less crucial that she recall what her brain was struggling to bring into focus.

  His hands stroked restlessly up and down her back; he no longer needed to bind her to him. One big palm slipped around her rib cage to cover a breast. Even through her clothing, his thumb sought out the tender peak, circling her nipple until it stood out in bold relief, the contact sending arrows of arousal straight to the aching flesh between her legs. Restlessly she pressed herself closer. As if he recognized her need, he slipped one hard thigh between hers, pressing upward so that she was firmly lodged against his leg, the small press and release of his muscled thigh spiraling her closer and closer to the reckless edge of passion.

  Finally he released her mouth, sliding his lips along her jaw and down to the vulnerable flesh beneath her chin, sucking and licking, flicking a relentless rhythm over the tender skin as he worked his way down to the upper swells of her breasts. He nuzzled aside the button-front shirt she wore, but eventually the fabric frustrated him and he abandoned his efforts, simply closing his lips over the taut nipple shielded from his view and suckling strongly.

  She gave a high, smothered cry as the shock reverberated through her system, and though she wouldn’t remember it later, her back arched and her hands came up to plunge into his thick hair and hold him closer. Her fingers flexed and kneaded his scalp and he dragged one hand away from her back to begin working at the buttons of her blouse until he’d freed enough that he could pull the fabric aside and lift her breast free of her bra.

  His mouth on her bare flesh was yet another shocking wonder. How could she have forgotten this? Logical thought receded and she gave herself to the hot magic flowing between them, her knees giving way so that she sank to the thick carpet, pulling him down as she went. Within minutes, they were sprawled in a needy tangle of limbs struggling to remove clothing even as they explored newly bared skin.

  When he had removed the bikini panties that still fit beneath the bulge of her belly, Rafe sat back on his heels for a long moment, studying the changes in her form since the last time they’d been together. Under his intense scrutiny she blushed, raising a knee and covering her breasts with her arms.

  He gave a quiet chuckle, then stretched his length beside her, propping himself on an elbow and laying a hot, hairy leg over hers, gently but inexorably tugging until she relaxed her arms from their defensive posture. Bending his head, he touched a light kiss to the crest of the nearest breast.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said almost reverently. “Before, in the dark, I wished I could see you better.” He placed his open palm at her throat and slowly smoothed it in a long, slow glide down the midline of her body, dragging it through the valley between her breasts, down past her navel and finally stopping when his big palm covered the place where their child was sheltered.

  She raised her own hands to his broad, bare shoulders, exploring the muscular flesh with gentle fingers, running her hands up to cradle his stubbled jaw, marveling at the differences in a man’s body. Oh, she was no naive schoolgirl. She knew a lot about what happened between men and women, courtesy of many gossipy, giggly late-night sessions with the girlfriends her parents made sure were a part of their daughters’ lives.

  And she’d had that one wondrous, magical night with Rafe…when everything had seemed dusted with magic and moonl
ight, and her inhibitions had slipped away into the shadows under his expert handling.

  He leaned over her then, kissing her deeply, caressing her silky skin until she was arching against him, small whimpers escaping each time his hand ventured into sensitive territory. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. She only wanted to feel, to savor every brush of his fingers, every inch of his body against hers.

  His hand slipped lower and lower over her belly and into the warm thatch of curls below, and she gave a strangled cry of shock as he deliberately pushed on. One long finger slid between her soft folds, spreading the moisture he found there in ever-widening circles until her nails were digging into his shoulders and she tugged at his lean hips, trying to drag him closer.

  He answered her wordless plea with his body, moving atop her and settling himself in the space she willingly made between her thighs. She could feel him, throbbing and silky against her belly and she slipped a hand between them, needing to feel the proof of his desire for her. He groaned as she cupped him and his hips thrust involuntarily at her, then he captured her hand and kissed her fingers before anchoring both hands above her head with his own.

  Slowing, he drew back, allowing his heavy flesh to find its home between her thighs, nudging at her gently but insistently until the slick channel he’d prepared for himself opened. He thrust forward in one strong stroke then, pushing into her in the ultimate joining while he kissed her again and again, hard, stinging kisses that spoke more clearly than words of the control he was exerting. She wriggled beneath him to lodge him even more firmly in place, then rocked her hips lightly, savoring the slippery movement of flesh in flesh.

  Looking up at his chiseled features, she felt her heart swell with love. It was ridiculous to deny it. Oh, she might never tell Rafe, but it was silly to pretend she didn’t love him, had begun to lose her heart when their eyes had met across a ballroom. She’d loved him since that night, the one night he’d been all hers without any of this baggage between them muddying feelings and relationships.

  He kissed her again as if he would never stop, and she closed her eyes, wanting to impress every memory into her mind, to save these precious moments for the long, lonely days that she feared were ahead. She didn’t know what the rest of her life might hold; she only knew that Rafe wouldn’t be there, and she doubted she’d ever feel about another man the way she felt about him. It had happened for her parents—mutual, instantaneous love that defied social class and expectations, and she’d been raised to respect the sacred joining of two souls. Marriage shouldn’t happen unless there was love between the parties involved.

  Rafe drew back, then pushed forward again, and the sensations his body produced where he moved within and over her were so exquisite that she couldn’t prevent the soft sound of need that escaped.

  “I thought of you.” His voice was a rough confession in her ear. “So many times, I nearly hopped on a plane and came to find you.”

  It was the first time she’d had any indication that he might have been as affected by their night of lovemaking as she had been, and it was the most powerful aphrodisiac she’d ever known.

  “I wish you had,” she whispered. Then she shifted her legs higher, clasping his lean waist, and gave herself to the moment. As he began to move heavily against her, she turned her face into his chest and moved in counterpoint, meeting his thrusts. He unclasped her wrists and drew his hand down to brace himself, and she laid her palms over the smooth muscles of his shoulders, feeling the heat and sweat, feeling a throbbing tension drawing taut at the point where his body slammed into her over and over. She’d noticed an increased sensitivity in her breasts and other places as her pregnancy progressed, and the rhythmic thrusting was quickly more than she could take.

  With an incoherent cry, she convulsed in his arms, writhing as climax ripped through her. Rafe followed almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting for her and she wrapped her arms around him, dimly feeling the pulses of his own release flooding warmly within her, awareness slowly returning as ecstasy receded into a lethargic satisfaction.

  She yawned against his chest and felt a chuckle rumble through him. He started to shift away, but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Stay.”

  “I’m planning to.” He lifted a hand and smoothed her hair back from her face, lingered over the curve of her cheek. “But I have to move. I don’t want to hurt you or the baby.”

  Reluctantly, she relaxed her grip, hating the moment when he pulled away from her, but nearly as quickly he slid to her side and shifted her so that he lay on his back with her cuddled against him. His arm was hard around her and the hair on his chest was tickling her nose. She’d never been so content in her entire life. Heaving a sigh that made him chuckle again, she closed her eyes and slipped into sleep, safe in his embrace.

  Two hours later, Rafe stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Quietly he walked through the bedroom, and, as the knock he’d been expecting sounded at the door, he quickly pulled it open before the man standing on the other side could knock again.

  “The things you requested, sir,” the valet said. The man pushed a garment cart with several bagged items hanging from it into the room, then efficiently dealt with the bags piled on its bottom rack. As Rafe watched, all kinds of toiletries and accessories appeared: a shaving kit, a selection of makeup, the ladies’ maternity underclothes he’d specified, perfume and men’s cologne and more, right down to a handbag and pretty, low-heeled sandals for his sleeping beauty.

  Rafe signed the bill the man discreetly presented, adding a generous tip before he ushered him out, closing the heavy door quietly. Elizabeth was still sleeping on the bed where he’d carried her after their lovemaking, and he suspected she needed a little more rest before their evening began. She was going to be hard enough to handle when she found out what he had planned; no point in having her tired and cranky as well.

  He’d sworn he would never wind up like his parents, and now he was doing nearly the exact same thing.

  The bitter thought tore through his mind and he felt compelled to defend his decision. He was not doing the same thing his parents had done. Well, not exactly. His parents’ marriage had been a power deal and his mother hadn’t been pregnant at the time of the ceremony. Although it certainly hadn’t been long before she was.

  The thought boggled the mind. He couldn’t imagine two people less likely to indulge in hot, sweaty, draining but delightful bouts of sex than his parents. Victor and Sara were the least passionate people he’d ever met.

  Unless you were talking prestige or finances, he thought with a bitterness that hadn’t subsided over the years. His father lived to ingratiate himself with the royalty of every European nation that hadn’t gotten rid of the archaic idea of a ruling class. Anyone who dared to thwart Victor in one of his never-ending attempts to link himself with yet another royal name found out just how passionate he could get.

  As a child, Rafe had learned quickly that protocol and etiquette were the keys to success in his home. One didn’t run to one’s mother for a kiss upon her return from a trip, or cry over a skinned knee. His father’s favorite phrase, without doubt, was “stiff upper lip.”

  And Rafe was damned if his child was ever going to hear it.

  He pulled on the black evening trousers and slipped into the shirt, fastening the studs and adding the formal bow tie before working on the cuff links he’d had sent up with the other accessories. Then he crossed to the little writing desk in the living area and quickly penned a note for Elizabeth before slipping into new Italian leather shoes and the rest of his tux and letting himself out of the suite.

  He had a lot of things to do if he was going to get married tonight.

  She knew he was gone when she woke.

  Rafe was an overwhelming presence; if he were still in the suite, she would know. She stretched and immediately a thousand small sensations reminded her of his lovemaking. Though there was no one there to see, she smiled a
slow, happy smile of contentment. At least physically she was sure that he wanted her.

  Slowly she sat up, then rose from the bed and padded into the bathroom. Donning one of the luxurious robes that were compliments of the casino, she used the facilities and washed her face, then went to the mini-bar and got a large bottle of spring water.

  On the bar lay a note. The first time she had seen Rafe’s handwriting, she’d been privately amused. She could have predicted the bold, aggressive strokes like these in which he explained that he’d had clothing and accessories sent up, that she should go ahead and dress and he’d be back by…oh, heavens!

  The clock on the wall told her she had little more than twenty minutes before his return. If she wanted to be beautiful, she’d better get moving. She snatched up the toiletries and cosmetics and headed for the bathroom.

  She took the quickest shower on record. As she was slipping into the strappy little sandals that were in one of the boxes, she heard the door of the suite open. Hastily she crossed to the vanity area and picked up her bag, applying a quick dash of lipstick. Then with a nervousness she didn’t entirely understand, she started for the door leading to the living room.

  Before she could get there, the door opened.

  Rafe seemed to fill the doorway, and she was struck by his size, as she always was when she saw him after an absence. His shoulders were so broad, they blocked the light behind him.

  “Sleep well?” His voice was warm as he started across the room.

  “Yes, I—Rafe!”

  He’d seized her by the waist and pulled her up against him. Her protest was purely a formality because already she was winding her arms about his neck and relaxing into his embrace. He put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face up to his, then cupped her jaw as he set his mouth on hers and parted her lips with his, invading the tender depths with his tongue until she curled against him in restless surrender.