Pregnant with a Royal Baby!(21)

Not only would this work, but it would be easy.

Piece of cake, as Ginny would say.

* * *

When they had to take a helicopter to the yacht, Ginny knew why Dom had  chosen it as their honeymoon spot. The pilot put the helicopter down on  the landing pad, and Dom helped her out, gathering the skirt of her gown  so she didn't trip over it as she navigated the steps.                       
       
           



       

Walking across the deck, under the starlit sky, she glanced around in awe. "It's the friggin' Love Boat."

He turned to her with absolute horror in his eyes. "What?"

"You never saw the television show from the eighties? The Love Boat?"

Clearly relieved that she was referencing a television show, not  referring to something about their relationship, he said, "You weren't  even born in the eighties, so how did you see it?"

"My mom watched reruns all the time. It's a show about a cruise ship."

His eyes narrowed. "So you're saying our yacht is big?"

"Your yacht is huge."

"If that's a compliment, I accept it."

It wasn't a compliment. She was telling him she knew his plan. He  intended to use this big ship to avoid her for the two weeks they were  to be away. But he didn't seem to catch on to what she was saying.

It didn't matter. She was happy to have figured out his plan. She'd  thought the night of the formal dinner for her friends had been her  moment, and when it turned out that it wasn't, she'd hoped her honeymoon  might give her another shot. And here she stood on a boat big enough to  rival an aircraft carrier. It meant her options for finding another  moment were seriously limited. But at least she knew what she was up  against.

A security guard opened the door for them and Dom motioned for her to  enter first. She stepped inside, expecting to see stairs with metal  railings painted white, expecting to hear the hollow sound of a  stairwell. Instead, she entered a small lobby. Sleek hardwood floors led  to an elevator. Gold-framed paintings hung on the walls.

She spun around to face Dom. "Seriously? Is that a Picasso?"

Dom said, "Probably," as the elevator door opened. She hadn't even seen him press a button for it.

They rode down, only a few floors, before the door opened again onto a  room so stunningly beautiful it could have been in a magazine. Huge  windows in the back displayed the black sky with the faint dusting of  stars. A taupe sofa flanked by two printed club chairs sat in front of a  fireplace. The accent rug that held them all in a group was the same  print as the club chairs. A long wooden bar gleamed in a far corner.  Plants in elaborate pots converted empty space into focal points.

She wanted to say, "Wow," but her chest hurt. Her knees wobbled. This  was her wedding night. But unlike a normal bride who knew what to  expect, every step of her journey was a mystery. She wanted one thing.  Dom wanted another. And only one of them could win.

Security guards entered behind Dom, rolling the cart carrying their  luggage. She'd packed her four bags with care. Even though Dom had told  her she'd need only a bikini and some sunblock, she'd brought clothes  for romantic dinners-and undies. Pretty panties, bras and sleepwear that  she and Joshua had chosen from catalogs so exclusive that prices  weren't listed beneath the descriptions.

Joshua had said, "If you have to ask the price, you can't afford it."

And at that point she decided she didn't want to know. Dominic could  afford to buy and sell small countries. She wasn't going to quibble over  the price of the nighties she'd probably need to seduce him.

The bodyguards disappeared down the hall with the luggage cart carrying their bags.

"Nightcap?"

She pressed her hand to her tummy. "I probably could use some orange juice."

He walked to the bar. "Tired?"

Was he kidding? Even if she was exhausted, nerves would keep her awake  tonight. The last time they'd been in this position, she hadn't had to  seduce him. They'd seduced each other. Which meant, she shouldn't be  nervous. She should be herself.

Pushing the empty luggage cart, the bodyguards left with a nod to Dom.

And suddenly they were alone.

Straightening her shoulders, she faced him with a smile. "You know what? I think I'll just go change."

She glanced down at her beautiful wedding dress. It would now be cleaned  and pressed to be put on display in the part of the palace open to  tourists.

"It seems a shame to take this off."

"It is pretty." He smiled. "You were a stunning bride."

Her spirits lifted. No matter how strong he was, he liked her. He'd always liked her. She could do this.

She walked back down the hall to the room she'd seen the guards take  their bags and found herself in another sitting room. She shook her  head. "These people must spend a fortune on furniture."

The tulle underskirt of her gown swishing, she turned to the right-the  side of the suite her room was on in the palace-and headed to that  bedroom. She opened the door on another sitting room, this one smaller,  and walked into the bedroom, only to find it empty. She glanced in the  walk-in closet, thinking they might have carried her bags the whole way  in there, but that was empty, too.                       
       
           



       

She walked out of the bedroom, through the small sitting room, then the big sitting room and to the hall. "Dom?"

He ambled to the front of the hall where he could see her. "What?"

"My stuff's not in my room."

"It has to be. I saw the bodyguards carting it back."

"Well, it's not here."

He huffed out a sigh. "Let me see." He walked back along the hall and  through the sitting room into the second bedroom of the master suite.  Doing exactly as she had done, he frowned when he didn't see her bags in  the bedroom, then checked the closet.

"That's weird."

"Yeah."

He slowly faced her. "They might have put your things in my room."

"Oh?"

"Don't get weird notions. My instruction was for your things to be put in your room." He went into the master bedroom.

On impulse, she followed him. Nothing ever really went as planned with  the two of them, so maybe the thing to do would be let things happen.

His room didn't have a sitting room. The big double doors opened onto an  enormous bed. Beige walls with a simple beige-and-white spread on the  bed gave the room a soothing, peaceful feel. But Dom didn't even pause.

"No luggage here," he said, finding the bedroom empty. He turned to the  walk-in closet. He opened the grand double doors and sighed. "And  there's everything."

"They think we're sleeping together."

"I told them we're not."

"You actually told them?"

"I told them this marriage is a show for the heir."

"Oh."

"Don't be embarrassed. I'm the one who should be embarrassed. This is my mess we're cleaning up."

"Oh, yeah. Every woman loves it broadcast that her new husband doesn't want her."

"It wasn't broadcast. A few key servants know the secret. It's why we're  on the yacht, not at the villa. There are many servants here, and they  rotate. None of them is going to see us enough to put it all together."

Suddenly weary, she decided this was not a seduction night. It was a  total bust. How on earth could she seduce a guy who had told his  servants his marriage was a sham? She turned to leave but stopped and  faced him again.

"You know how we did that thing with the cuff links?"

He cautiously said, "Yes."

"Well, there are a hundred buttons on the back of this dress, most of which I can't reach. Can I get some help?"

His relieved "Sure" did nothing to help her flagging spirit. If anything, it made her feel even worse.

Just wanting to get this over with so she could race out of his room, go  to her room and be appropriately miserable, she presented her back to  him.

His fingers bumped against the first button. She felt it slide through  the loop. When it took a second for him to reach for the next button,  she realized her hair was in the way and she scooped it to the side,  totally revealing the long row of buttons to him.

"That's a lot of buttons."

Holding her hair to the side, she said, "Exactly why I need help."

He quickly undid three or four buttons, then she felt his fingers stall again.

"Getting tired, Your Majesty?"

"No. I'm fine."

But his voice was pinched, strained.

Another two buttons popped through the loops.

"You're not wearing a bra."

"Didn't want the straps to show through the lace."

He said, "Ump."

Another two buttons popped. Then two more. But when his fingers stalled  again, she felt them skim along her skin. Not a lot, just a quick brush  as if he couldn't resist temptation.