Pregnant with a Royal Baby!(27)

"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

THE 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.

"You're not glowing today."

"Nope. Why didn't anybody tell me that pregnant women didn't get any sleep when they got close to their due date?"

"Nobody wants to scare women off," her mother said with a laugh as she  entered the sitting room. She bent and kissed Ginny's forehead, then sat  beside her on the sofa.

"Dom not coming around?"

"Nope. And I'm out of tricks. We talked baby names. I've shown him how  to feel the baby move. We eat breakfast and dinner together every day,  and nothing. I'm out of ideas, short of seduction." She pointed at her  stomach. "And we both know seduction would be a little awkward now."                       
       
           



       

"I'm so sorry, sweetie."

"It's fine. But I've gotta run. I get to play loving princess now, while he ignores me."

* * *

They left through the front of the palace so long-range lenses could pick up photos of Dom opening the door for Ginny.

Every inch of Dom now hated the charade he'd created. It was working,  but it was also a strain on Ginny. When she was just a normal woman, a  one-night stand, he didn't see the strain as being as much of a big  deal, though he knew it was a sacrifice.

But now that he could see the effects of her sacrifice, her swollen  stomach, the sadness that came to her eyes every time she realized how  empty, how hollow their relationship was, it burned through him like a  guilty verdict pronounced by the gods. She had been the sweetest woman  in the world, and in spite of the way he was using her, she was still  sweet, still genuine, still helping him.

If he didn't go to hell for this, it would be a miracle. Because he certainly believed he deserved the highest punishment.

She slid into the limo and blew her breath out in a long, labored sigh.

His gaze darted to hers. "Are you okay?"

She placed her hands on her basketball stomach. "I'm not accustomed to  carrying twenty-five extra pounds." She laughed good-naturedly.  "Sometimes I get winded."

The funny part of it was she didn't look bad. Wearing slim slacks that  tapered to the top of her ankle and a loose blue sweater that didn't  hide her baby bump but didn't hug it, either, she just looked pregnant.  Her arms hadn't gained. Her legs hadn't gained. She simply had a belly.

A belly that held his child.

"If the trip is too much, we can go back to the palace."

"Only to have to reschedule it for tomorrow?" She shook her head. "Let's just get this over with."

The guilt pressed down again. He glanced at her feet, pretty in her  pink-toned sandals. Her whimsy in the choice of color made him smile.

"You have an interesting fashion sense."

She gaped at him. "I have a wonderful fashion sense, Mr.  White-Shirt-and-Tie-Everywhere-You-Go. You need to read Vogue every once  in a while."

The very thought made him laugh.

Her head tilted as she smiled at him. "It's been a long time since I heard you laugh."

"Yeah, well, our saber-rattling sheikh is back and he isn't the  country's only problem. It's hard for me to laugh when I have business  to attend to."

Her pretty blue eyes sought his in the back of the limo. "Is it really that difficult?"

He turned his head to the right and then the left to loosen the tension.  "Yes and no." Oddly, he felt better. He could twist his neck a million  times, sitting in the halls of parliament, and nothing. But two feet  away from her and the tension began to ebb.

"Ruling is mostly about paying attention. Not just to who wants what but  also to negotiating styles and nonverbal cues. There are  parliamentarians who get quiet right before they walk out of a session  and spill their guts to the press. There are others who explode in  session." He caught her gaze again. "I'd rather deal with them."

She smiled and nodded, and the conversation died. But when he helped her  out of the limo at Marco's seaside coffee shop, she was all smiles.

A reporter shouted, "Coming back to the scene of the crime?"

She laughed. "If fainting was a crime, tons of pregnant women would be  in jail." She smiled prettily as she slid on the sunglasses that made  her look like a rock star. "Just hungry for a cookie."

With his bodyguards clearing a path, they made their way into the coffee  shop. Standing behind the counter, Marco beamed with pleasure.

He bowed. "It is an honor that you love my cookies."

She laughed. "The pleasure is all mine. Not only do I want a cookie and a  glass of milk for now, but I'm taking a half-dozen cookies back to the  palace."

Marco scurried to get her order. Dominic frowned. "Don't you want to hear what I want?"

"Hazelnut coffee," Marco said, clearly disinterested in Dominic as he  carefully placed cookies in a box for Ginny. Antonella brought Dominic's  coffee to the counter.

He pulled a card out to pay, but Marco stopped him with a gasp. "It is my honor to serve our princess today."

Dominic said, "Right."

Because Ginny didn't faint this time, Dom could actually lead her out to  the long deck that became a dock. He set her milk on the table in front  of her, along with her single cookie. He handed the box of six cookies  to a bodyguard.

Ginny said, "There better be six cookies in that box when we get back to the palace."                       
       
           



       

Dominic's typically staid and stoic bodyguard laughed.

After a sip of coffee, he said, "They love you, you know?"

She unwrapped her big sugar cookie as if it were a treasure. "Everybody  loves me. But there's a reason for that. It's not magic. I'm a child of  an alcoholic. I know everybody has something difficult in their life so I  treat everyone well."

"I treat everyone well."

She lifted her cookie. "Yeah. Sort of."

"Sort of? I never yell at anyone. And if I reprimand, it's with kindness."

"You're still a prince."