Prince's Son of Scandal(8)

Nothing.

Not one returned call, message or text.

What did it matter? He made himself get over her, focusing on more important things, primarily his duty to marry.

He had made a concerted effort to avoid all headlines containing the name Sauveterre, which wasn’t easy. First, the mysterious, reclusive Trella had come out at a friend’s wedding. That had kept the gossip industry booming through spring and summer, along with other news within the family, making it a challenge for him to change channels or flick screens fast enough to avoid catching sight of her.

Then, just as things seemed to have died down, she’d been caught climbing from her brother’s car looking less svelte than in previous photos. Pregnant, the avid Sauveterre watchers speculated.

So what if she was? It didn’t make a hill of beans difference to anyone’s life, least of all his.

Still, Xavier had looked closely at the photos that emerged, one showing her in a stunning maternity gown at her brother’s engagement party. She didn’t look very pregnant. She had said she was on the pill. If she was carrying his child, she would have returned his calls. He didn’t have anything to worry about, he assured himself.

This latest inflammatory sound bite was more of the same. Had to be. He had a walk-on part in the episodic drama that was the Sauveterre serial. He had slept with her one night. He resented being drawn into scandal for it. He was now engaged. That made besmirching his name unforgiveable. Immediately after allaying his grandmother’s concern, he would insist Trella clear him of involvement so he could reassure Patrizia their marriage plans could continue.

Damn it, he had completely forgotten about Patrizia. He paused to text.

I’ll have this cleared up shortly.

Their match was perfect in every way. Not only would it strengthen both of their countries, but they liked each other. Neither had unrealistic notions like love and passion to muddy the waters. She was nursing a bruised heart and was keen for a stable, reliable situation. A civilized relationship, she kept calling it.

He was pleased to perform his duty in a way he could stand. Patrizia was intelligent, attractive, well-bred. She would have children for the same reason he would: They were expected to. They respected one another. They were on the same page.

He wanted this marriage.

Mario paused with him and knocked, then announced him.

His grandmother didn’t rise as Xavier entered. She didn’t even look up from whatever she was writing with her antique silver pen. The crackle in the fireplace became the only sound along with the scratch of her pen.

He took the bull by the horns. “I’ll refute it and press charges against the source.”

The pen went down and she peered at him over her glasses. She was a well-preserved seventy, her eyes were the same Deunoro blue as his own, her hair more iron than silver. She was overdue to start her morning audiences, which always made her salty.

“The Queen Mother of Zhamair is the source.”

Xavier’s PA had also pointed out that the story had stemmed from Angelique’s soon-to-be mother-in-law. “I haven’t had a chance to confirm that. If she made a statement, I’m sure it’s in reaction to some online nonsense.”

“She is reacting, I am informed, to remarks made about her son and his fiancée. She wanted to set the record straight that Angelique was not the woman kissing you in the photos that emerged some months ago from Paris. Angelique has always been faithful to King Kasim. Is that true?”

“I couldn’t say whether she’s been faithful, but I’m told I was with Trella.”

“You were told?”

“They’re twins.” He shrugged, not bothering to feel awkward discussing his sex life with his grandmother. She had had “The Talk” with him herself when he was an adolescent, explaining in no uncertain terms that royalty did not produce bastards and had offered explicit tips on how to prevent such a thing.

“That particular twin is pregnant.” She used her most imperious tone. “A source intimately connected to her family has stated you were with her at an appropriate time for conception. Did you take precautions?”

“Of course.”

The condom broke. Are you on the pill?

Yes.

“She would have told me if there were consequences.” Tension gathered in the pit of his gut. He didn’t know which one of them he was trying to convince. “Any woman who sets out to trap a man does not hide it for six months. Even if it was an accident, there’s no reason to keep it from me. She might be pregnant, but it’s not mine.”

Her brows went up in regal disdain. “Perhaps you should confirm that.”

As if that hadn’t occurred to him? “Of course,” he said. Dutifully.

“Because it would be a shame if this were to cause any delay in our schedule.” She intended to step down the minute he was married. To Patrizia.

“Understood.”

* * *

It was hot in Innsbruck, despite the elevation and the calendar showing the last days of summer. But maybe the heat was caused by this extra human she was carrying.

Trella lifted her face into the gentle breeze, enjoying the sweet scent of it. She was six months along and felt it, even though she wasn’t showing much. Her mother had possessed the same tall, model-slender figure and had barely shown with twins until the very end. This was only one and with the right clothes, she barely looked pregnant.

She needed that ambiguity. Prince Xavier’s texts had devolved to the two-word kind.

Call me.

She had ignored the latest, received this morning, exactly as she’d ignored every other text and call she’d received from him, the first immediately after he’d met Angelique in Berlin, and most recently after she’d been exposed by her sister’s soon-to-be mother-in-law as the twin in his arms at the ball in Paris.

She had her reasons. That’s what she kept telling herself, even though it was pure emotion that drove her and that emotion was cowardice.

“They’re blocked by a service vehicle,” her guard, Benita, said of their car, lifting her gaze from her phone to continue her scan of the street. “Let’s wait inside.”

Benita was as tall as Trella and had a mannish demeanor when she was on the job. No nonsense, no makeup, hair scraped into a bun, communications terse.

Trella didn’t mind. She wasn’t the most cooperative principal. To her occasional chagrin, she was a high maintenance person in every way. Acknowledging that about herself didn’t stop her from saying, “I’d rather stay out here.”

The day was gorgeous and she would be on bed rest soon. She wanted to enjoy the outside world while she could.

“Killian said—”

“I know. Take extra precautions.” She scoffed at a lot of things, but not security reports. “I spoke to Sadiq. He’s the one who discovered the hack and restored all the firewalls. No one even knows I’m here.”

Except the handful of people inside the building who had just taken selfies with her. They were no doubt posting those as she spoke. She was a celebrity, whether she liked it or not. It was only a matter of minutes before lookie-loos began pulling over, wanting their own photo with a Sauveterre, especially the elusive pregnant one.

“My gut doesn’t like it.”

“Because Killian trains you to be overprotective.”

Benita had tried to cancel this trip as soon as the security bulletin had come through. Trella wasn’t sure why she had insisted on making what amounted to a house call for a joint venture she wasn’t sure she would pursue, but she had.

Ah, she knew why she had come. For starters, her sister had been doing this kind of thing on her behalf for years. It was yet another burden she had placed on her twin and it was her turn to pay it back, now that Angelique was starting her life with Kasim.

Oh, her sister was in love. It was as majestic a sight to behold as the timeless sparkling peaks around them. Trella was deeply happy for her, but so very envious.

Her gaze tracked to the sharpest, highest peaks to the south. To Elazar.

Was he texting from inside that border, sitting in his palace office, cursing her for ignoring him?

A flutter in her midsection had her resisting the urge to press her hand across her belly. She didn’t like to draw attention to her pregnancy when she was in public. Besides, it wasn’t the baby that caused that stir in her middle. It was a complex mix of emotions.

She wanted to tell him she was grateful. She wanted to see him again, to discover if the magical connection she’d felt in Paris had been real or just a product of an exciting foray into independence. She wanted him to know they were expecting a baby.

She also wanted to hold their night in her memory as the ideal that it was. She didn’t want the harsh fallout she would have to face once she acknowledged this baby as his. Most of all, she didn’t want to be a burden on a man who had seemed too perfect to want anything to do with someone as flawed as she was.

Her expected black sedan with its darkened windows slid up to the curb.

“There. See?” Trella said, even as she noted a man approaching in her periphery.

“That’s not—” Benita’s voice cut off.

Perhaps Trella went deaf at that moment because nothing penetrated beyond the fact that the back door opened and the Prince of Elazar rose from the interior.

He was as remarkable as she remembered. Like a knight of legend, his hair shot with glints of gold, his visage sharp and stern, his air one of heroic power. He was so godlike, she couldn’t move. She was too mesmerized.