Pregnant with a Royal Baby! (15 page)

“Oh, my gosh! The baby’s moving!”

“He is?”

“Or she is!” She plopped her palm on Ginny’s stomach. “Let me feel.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my gosh. Oh, Ginny. I’m going to be a grandma.”

Ginny fell to the bed. “That fluttering is my baby?”

Rose sat beside her on the unmade bed. “Yep.” She nudged Ginny’s shoulder. “Mama.”

She pressed her lips together. “Mama. I’m going to be somebody’s mom.”

Rose slid her hand across her shoulders. “Yes, you are. And whatever nonsense is going on between you and Dom, you have to straighten it out.”

“There is nothing to straighten out. The deal is made. I leave two years after the baby’s born.”

Rose studied her face. “But you don’t want to go now. You love him.”

“And I think he loves me, too, but he doesn’t want to.”

“Oh, what man willingly falls in love?”

Ginny laughed.

Rose said, “Give him time.”

“Time won’t heal the fact that he thinks love makes a ruler weak.”

“Really?”

“You know his mom died, right?”

Rose winced. “Kind of hard not to see that Ronaldo’s wife isn’t around.”

“She was apparently sick for years with cancer.” Ginny sighed. “He tried everything to save her and in that time the country fell apart.”

“So?”

“So, parliament called for his resignation. Had he not snapped out of it he would have lost his crown.”

“Oh.”

Ginny rose from the bed and paced to the dresser. “I never realized how difficult their job was.”

Her mom leaned back, balancing herself with her hands behind her. “How so?”

“Their location forces them into a position of needing to protect the waterways. While Dom’s dad was scrambling to save his wife, pirates began attacking ships, demanding money to pass.”

“That’s not good.”

“The press crucified the king. Parliament called for removal of his crown.”

“So you said.” She sat up. “But I still don’t get how this means he can’t have a wife.”

“He doesn’t want to be weak.”

“You know the marriages I’ve seen that work the best are the ones where a husband and wife form a team.”

“If you’re suggesting that I should help him rule, you are out of your mind. Not only would he
never
let that happen, but I can’t rule. I could make a suggestion or two, but I couldn’t rule.”

Rose batted a hand. “You’re good with people, sweetie, but not that good.” She stood up and walked over to Ginny. “You love this guy.”

Ginny didn’t even try to deny it.

“So how in the hell could you possibly be willing to let him live this demanding, difficult life alone?”

Ginny blinked.

“You’re looking at this from your side of the street, but what about his? Ronaldo told me that his wife was the treasure he came home to at night. That when the world was rocky, her silliness was his salvation. She was beautiful, elegant and could charm the birds out of the trees. But he didn’t care about any of that. He liked that she played gin rummy with him until the sun came up on nights he couldn’t sleep. He liked that he could talk about anything with her, knowing she’d never abuse the power of his confidences and that no one would ever know she’d heard things that were supposed to be secret.”

Rose took a breath and patted Ginny’s shoulder. “Do you really think Dom will live much past sixty if he doesn’t have a friend, a buddy, a confidante, a lover who’s willing to be whatever he wants without making demands?”

“No.”

“And can you see the lonely life he’ll have unless you try to work this out?”

She sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

“Ginny, you always believed that being a guidance counselor was a calling. But what if this is your calling? Not just being Dom’s true partner, but also raising your child so that he or she isn’t buried under the stress of ruling?”

“Maybe I have been looking at this selfishly.”

“Not selfishly, but ill informed. Now that you know how difficult all this is, you’ve got to do whatever you can to make Dom’s life easier.”

* * *

Dom and Sally easily found the serving boy who had taken the pictures, but that didn’t change the fact that the damage was done. Dom looked at photos of himself on the dais, on the dance floor and leading Ginny to the rear entrance to return to their apartment, and even he saw it—the weakness. The ease with which he stepped out of his role as leader and into the role of what? A smitten lover?

He could not have that. He would not be his dad. If anything, now was the time to prove that he was stronger than his father.

He didn’t have lunch with Ginny, didn’t return to the apartment until after eight that night. When he opened the door and entered the sitting room, he found her on the sofa, reading a magazine. Dressed in a soft red robe with a floral nightgown beneath it, she rose when she saw him.

“Did you catch the creep who took those pictures?”

He headed for the bar. “Yes.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She returned to her seat. “Okay.”

Silence descended on the room. He looked at the Scotch with disgust, remembering the orange juice he’d been drinking for “unity.” What was wrong with him that he’d been such a schmuck? All he’d been doing since their honeymoon was giving her the wrong idea.

He set the glass on the bar and didn’t even tell her he was going to get his shower. He let the water sluice over him, reminding himself that he was a ruler, royalty, someone set aside to do the noble task of keeping his people safe. He stood in the shower until he began to feel like his old self.

He put on a pair of pajamas and crawled into bed with the latest popular thriller. He might not be a television guy or a movie buff, but he liked a good story, a good book. He read until ten when his eyelids grew heavy. He set the book on the bedside table at the same time that Ginny entered the room.

He wanted to suggest that she go back to her old room, but couldn’t quite bring himself to be that mean. Eventually she’d grow weary of him ignoring her and she’d come to the decision on her own.

Soundlessly, she slipped out of her red robe, exposing the pretty flowered nightie. His gaze fell to her stomach, which peeped out every time she moved in such a way that the gown flattened against it. She said nothing. Just crawled into bed.

But she rolled over to him. She put her head on his shoulder and her hand on his stomach.

He resisted the urge to lower his arm and cuddle her to him. This was, after all, part of how he’d get her to see the truth of their situation and go back to her own room. But when her breathing grew even and soft and he knew she was asleep, he let his arm fall enough that he could support her.

Then he laid his hand on her stomach.

He closed his eyes, savoring the sensations of holding her, and fell asleep telling himself that it wouldn’t hurt to hold her every once in a while.

* * *

Dom’s life became a series of long days and empty meals. With Ginny’s mom deciding to retire to help Ginny care for the baby, he didn’t have to worry if she had company or if she was being cared for or entertained. In fact, the way she slept in in the morning and had lunches and most dinners with her mom made him feel they were establishing a great system for being together without being together.

The thing of it was, though, she was in his bed every night. She never said a word. Didn’t try to seduce him. She just rolled against him, put her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest and fell asleep.

He didn’t resist it. Not because he took comfort from the small gesture, but because she was pregnant with his child, and he was hurting her. It almost seemed that this little ritual was her way of easing away from him. And if this was what she needed to do to get through the next months, he would let her have it.

But one night, she rolled against him and something bounced against his side. He peered down. The stomach beneath her thin yellow nightgown looked much bigger when she was on her side.

The bounce hit him again. He stiffened but she laughed.

“That’s your baby.”

He sprang up. “What?”

“Your baby.” She took his hand and set it on her stomach. “He’s moving.”

The rounded stomach beneath his hand rippled. His jaw dropped. He smoothed his fingers along the silken nightie.

She sat up. “Here.” She wiggled out of the nightie and tossed it. Sitting naked in the dark with him, she took both his hands and positioned them on either side of her belly.

The baby moved. A soft shift that almost felt like a wave.

He laughed, but his throat closed. “Oh, my God.”

She whispered, “I know.”

The desire to take her into his arms overwhelmed him and he pulled her close, squeezing his eyes shut. “Thank you.”

She leaned back so she could catch his gaze. “For showing you the best way to feel the baby or for actually having the baby?”

Her eyes warmed with humor. The tension that had seized his back and shoulders for the past six weeks eased and he laughed. “It’s a big deal to have a baby.”

“Millions of women do it every day.”

He sobered. “But not under such ridiculous conditions.”

She took his hand, pressed it to her stomach again. “The conditions aren’t that bad.”

“You’re not going to have a life.”

She shrugged. “I know. I already figured out it’ll take some hellaciously special guy to ask out a woman who’s divorced from a king and mother to a child who’s about to become king.” She met his gaze. “Very few guys will want to get on the bad side of a man who can answer the question ‘you and what army?’”

With the baby wiggling under his fingers, he said, “I’m so sorry.”

She waited until he looked at her again, then she whispered, “I’m not.”

“Then you haven’t fully absorbed the ramifications of this mess yet.”

“First, I don’t think it’s a mess. I told you. I didn’t think I’d ever become a mom. This baby is a great gift to me.” She shrugged. “So I have to give up dating permanently?” She put her hands on top of his. “This is worth it.”

“It is.”

He didn’t mean to say the words out loud. He now hated doing
anything
that gave her false hope. But she smiled and lay down.

“I’m sorry. Are you tired? Do you want to go to sleep?”

“Sleep?” She laughed and pointed at her stomach, which still rippled with movement. “You think I’m going to sleep with the Blue Man Group rolling around?”

He laughed, too, and settled on his pillow again. “Have you thought of names?”

“I pretty much figured your country would name her.”

He sat up again and looked down into her eyes. “The country?”

She shrugged. “Parliament.” She shrugged again. “Maybe your dad. Maybe tradition.”

“Tradition plays a role but essentially we get to name the baby.”

Her eyes lit. “Really? So if I want to call her Regina Rose, I can?”

He winced. “Sure.”

“You don’t like Regina?”

“I’d rather she just be Rose. It’s a good solid name.”

“It is.” She paused a second before she said, “And if it’s a boy?”

“I’ve always been fond of James Tiberius Kirk.”

“
Star Trek!
You’d name our baby after someone in
Star Trek
?”

“Not just any old someone. The captain. Plus Tiberius is an honorable name.” He met her gaze. “So is James.”

“I might not mind it if we dropped the Kirk.”

“I think that goes without saying.”

He lay down again. She snuggled into his side.

“You know the sheikh still asks about you.”

She laughed.

“He wanted to know if you got your three weeks on the yacht.”

“Did you tell him I didn’t?”

“No.”

“Did you explain that we had a fight?”

He sat up again. “This isn’t a fight. It’s the way things have to be.”

She said, “Yes, Your Majesty.” Not smartly. No hint of sarcasm and he knew she understood.

It should have made him feel better. It didn’t.

He lay back down again. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do in two years?” He couldn’t bring himself to say
after we divorce
. He knew that would hurt her too much.

“I’m still debating something Sally said about using my notoriety to bring attention to my causes.”

“Education?”

He felt her nod.

“You know, you can still live in the palace.”

“I know.”

That would be hard for her, but having just felt his baby move for the first time, strange emotions coursed through him. He couldn’t imagine Ginny gone. Couldn’t quite figure out how two people raised a child when they lived in separate houses. He’d been so cool about this in the beginning. So detached. But now that he’d felt his child, was getting to know Ginny, he saw all those decisions that were made so glibly had sad, lonely consequences.

“I just think it would be easier if I lived on the other side of the island. I’d be close, but not too close.”

He swallowed, grateful she wasn’t taking his baby halfway around the world. Still, an empty, hollow feeling sat in his stomach. “Makes sense.”

She said, “Yeah,” but he heard the wobble in her voice. She fell asleep a few minutes later, but Dom stayed awake most of the night. Sometimes angry with himself for hurting her. Other times angry with life. An ordinary man would take her and run with the life they could have together.

But he was a king—or would be someday. He didn’t get those choices.

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
HE
FIRST
DAY
of every month, Dom and Ginny made a public appearance that always included questions from the press. With her eight-months-pregnant stomach protruding, Ginny struggled to find something that wouldn’t make her look like a house while Dom attended to some matters in his office.

She finally settled on straight-leg trousers and a loose-fitting blue sweater—knowing it would make her eye color pop and hopefully get everybody’s attention on the baby. After stepping into flat sandals, she walked into the living room just as there was a knock at the door. Her mom entered without her having to answer the door.