Pregnant with a Royal Baby!(19)

Jessica drew a deep breath. "Okay. Now I think I get it. You know you  don't want to be in this life forever, but you like Dom and you're going  to make the best of it while you're here. So you'll have no regrets and  be ready to move on."

Ginny sighed with relief. "Exactly."

"Okay. Then I'm on board, too. What do you want us to do?"

"Nothing. This is the part I need to handle myself. I just haven't  figured out how yet." She couldn't exactly say, "Hey, let's sleep  together." But she wasn't the queen of seductresses, either. She was  going to have to wait for her moment and take it. Given that he'd  managed to avoid her for the past two weeks, that wasn't going to be  easy.

They called Joshua, who called his contact at a local boutique from  Ginny's suite. Four gowns were delivered within two hours, and Molly and  Jessica made their choices before they returned to their rooms to dress  for the formal dinner.

Ginny took special care with her outfit that night, wearing a  coral-colored gown. She fixed her hair in the long braid again, the way  she'd had it the night he'd kissed her.

When she finally came out of her suite, everyone was already there,  including her mom-and the king, who was his charming best, and anybody  with eyes in their head could see the reason was Rose.

After cocktails, they passed the small dining room where Dom and Ginny  ate breakfast and lunch, and entered a much bigger dining room,  something almost as fancy as the king's. Dom let the king have the head  of the table, taking the seat to his right and seating Ginny next to  him.

The conversation ebbed and flowed around them as Ginny watched her mom,  seated across from them at the king's right. They talked about  everything from sports to politics, and the king took great delight in  sparring with her.

"He's going to miss her when she's gone next week."

Ginny's gaze snapped around to meet Dom's. From the surprised expression  that came to his face, she could tell he hadn't meant to say that out  loud.

"It's okay. You can talk to me. We're a team, remember?" She motioned from herself to Dom. "In this together."

"Yes. But we don't want to go too far."

She turned on her seat, her taffeta gown ruffling and rustling, suddenly  wondering if this was her moment. Everybody at the table was deep in  conversation. Her bridesmaids chatted up Dom's brother. The king and her  mother were so engrossed, there might as well not have been anybody  else at the table.

The best place for her most private conversation with him might just be in this crowded dining room.

She took a breath, caught his gaze. "Why not? We're in a mighty big  charade. I think it's going to be impossible for us to set limits on how  close it makes us."

"I told you that we don't want to get close because I don't want to hurt you."

"You think you're going to hurt me over a few shared comments? I'm not  asking you to divulge state secrets. I'm just saying the charade works  better when we're talking." She smiled slightly. "We haven't talked in  weeks."

"And it's my fault?"

She shook her head. "Dom. Dom. Dom. You're so uptight. I'm not placing  blame. That's the beauty of forming a team and maybe even the beauty of  knowing this team doesn't have to last. We're only going to be together  for two years or so. After that, we are the parents of your country's  next heir who must get along."

Totally against the rules of etiquette, Dom picked up a fork and tapped it lightly against his plate. "So?"

She could think she made him nervous enough to do something out of line.  Or she could see she made him comfortable enough to do something  totally out of line.

She liked the second. She believed the second.

"So, I honestly, genuinely believe that if we would simply allow  ourselves to be friendly-maybe even to get close-in these next few  years, the rest of our lives would go a lot smoother."

He peeked over at her. "Really? That's what you think?"

"Look at it logically. How does it benefit us to never speak? It  doesn't. It makes the charade more difficult and opens the doors for us  to make mistakes."

"True."

"But if we talk at dinner and lunch, debrief about our days-"                       
       
           



       

This time when he peeked at her, he sort of smiled. "Debrief?"

"Sally and Joshua are rubbing off on me. I just mean we should talk about our days with each other."

"Ah."

"Then we won't make as many mistakes."

"It seems to me that just a few weeks ago, you were ignoring me."

"I was figuring everything out."

"And now you think you understand the whole situation?"

"I really do."

"And your answer is for us to debrief."

She met his gaze. "It's more than that."

His eyes darkened. "How much more?"

"I think we need to tell each other our reading interests, where we've  been on vacation, a bit or two about our jobs. I think I need to fix  your cuff links. You need to let me straighten your tie. I think we  should be talking baby names and colors for the nursery."

He held her gaze. "That's going to take us into some dangerous territory."

She took a long breath and with all her strength, all her courage, she  kept eye contact. "I'm a big girl. I'm also a smart girl. I sort of like  knowing that this relationship will end."

His eyes searched hers. "So you've said."

"My dad was an alcoholic who made promises he never kept. He was his  most charming when he wanted to manipulate me. If there's one thing I  can't trust, it's people being nice to me. How am I ever going to create  a relationship that leads to marriage if niceness scares me?"

He laughed unexpectedly. "You're saying you think a relationship with me will work because I'm not nice?"

"I'm saying this is my shot. Do you know I've never fantasized about  getting married and having kids? I was always so afraid I'd end up like  my mother that I wouldn't even let myself pretend I'd get married. So  I've never had anything but surface relationships." She sucked in a  breath. Held his gaze. "This baby we're having will probably be my only  child. This marriage? It might be fake to you, but it's the only  marriage I'll ever have. I'd love to have two years of happiness,  knowing that I don't have to trust you completely, that you can't hurt  me because we have a deadline."

"You really don't trust me?"

"I'll never trust anyone."

He glanced around the table at her bridesmaids, who were chatting up his  brother, his dad and her mom, who clearly weren't paying any attention  to them, and suddenly faced her again.

"No."





CHAPTER EIGHT

THE CATHEDRAL IN which Dom would marry Ginny was at least a thousand  years old. It had been renovated six times and almost totally rebuilt  once after a fire. The pews were cedar from Israel. The stained glass  from a famous Italian artist. Two of the statues were said to have been  created by Michelangelo, though no one could confirm it. And the art  that hung in the vestibule? All of it was priceless.

But when Ginny stepped inside, her hand wrapped in her mom's, every  piece of art, every piece of wood, every famous, distinguished and  renowned person seated in the sea of guests, disappeared from Dom's  vision.

She looked amazing.

She'd let her hair down. The yellow strands billowed around her beneath a  puffy tulle veil. The top of her dress was a dignified lace with a high  collar and snug lace sleeves that ran the whole way from her shoulders,  down her arms, across the back of her hand to her knuckles. The skirt  started at her waist, then flowed to the floor. Made of a soft,  airy-looking material, it was scattered with the same shimmering flowers  that were embroidered into the lace top, but these flowers stood alone,  peeking out of the folds of the fabric and then hiding again as the  skirt moved with every step Ginny took.

She'd managed to look both young and beautiful, while pleasing his  father with a very dignified gown that took Dom's breath away.

His brother leaned forward and whispered, "I know you weren't happy  about this marriage, so if you'd like to trade, you can have your  princess back and I'll raise your love child."

Any other time, Dom would have said, "Shut up, you twit." Today,  mesmerized by the woman who had already seduced him once, and if he'd  read her correctly the night of the formal dinner with her bridesmaids,  wanted to seduce him again, he very quietly said, "Not on your life."

Ginny and her mom reached the altar. Rose kissed his bride's cheek and  then walked to her seat. Ginny held out her hand to Dom and he took it,  staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. Because in a way he  hadn't. He'd seen her silly and happy and playful the night of their  date. He'd seen her dressed in jeans and T-shirts and even beautifully,  ornately, for the night with the ambassador. But today, in this dress  that was as beautiful as it was bridal, she was a woman offering herself  to a man, as a bride.