Princes Waitress(35)

‘Precisely.’ He looked at her then, and his eyes were cold as ice. ‘I have already fulfilled my side of the deal by marrying you.’

Holly froze with shock. ‘Deal?’

‘You wanted a father for your baby. I needed an heir.’

Her legs buckled and she sank down onto the edge of the bed. ‘You make it sound as though I picked you at random.’

‘Not at random. I think you targeted me very carefully.’

‘You still believe this isn’t your baby. Oh God. I really thought you’d changed your mind about that—you seemed different today—and when we—’ She glanced at the rumpled sheets on the bed, her eyes glistening with tears. ‘You made love to me and it felt—’

‘We had sex, Holly.’ His voice was devoid of emotion. ‘Love didn’t come into it, and it never will, make no mistake about that. Don’t do that female thing of turning a physical act into something emotional.’

Her hopes exploded like a balloon landing on nails.

‘It wasn’t just the sex,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve been different today. Caring. Ever since the moment I arrived at the cathedral.’ Her voice cracked. ‘You’ve been smiling at me, you had your arm around me. You kissed me.’

‘We’re supposed to look as though we’re in love.’ Apparently unaffected by her mounting distress, he strode over to an antique table next to the window. ‘Do you want a drink?’

‘No. I don’t want a drink!’ Her heart was suddenly bumping hard and she felt physically sick. ‘Are you saying that everything that happened today was for the benefit of the crowd?’

He poured himself a whisky but didn’t touch it. Instead he stared out of the window, his knuckles white on the glass, his handsome face revealing nothing of his thoughts. No emotion. ‘They wanted the fairy tale. We gave it to them. That’s what we royals have to do. We give the people what they want. In this case, a love match, a wedding and an heir.’

She blinked rapidly, determined to hold back the tears. ‘So why did you marry me?’

He lifted the glass to his lips. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you could have married someone you loved.’

He lowered the glass without drinking. ‘I don’t want love.’

Because he’d had it once and now it was gone?

Holly’s throat closed. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say and a terrible way to feel,’ she whispered. ‘I know you lost and I know you must have suffered, but—’

‘You don’t know anything.’

‘Then tell me!’ She was crying openly now, tears flooding her cheeks. ‘I’m devastated that the whole of today was a sham. I know it’s difficult for you to talk about Antonia, and frankly it isn’t that easy to hear it, either. But I know we’re not going to have any sort of marriage unless we’re honest with each other.’

Please don’t let him walk out on me. Please don’t let that happen.

‘Honest?’ He slammed the glass down onto the table and turned to look at her. ‘You lie about your baby, you lie all the way to the altar wearing your symbolic white dress, and then you suggest we’re honest? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?’

‘It’s your baby,’ Holly said hoarsely. Her insides were twisted in pain as she felt her new life crumbling around her. ‘And I don’t know how you can believe otherwise.’

‘Don’t you? Then let me tell you.’ He strolled towards her, his eyes glittering dark and deadly. ‘It can’t be my baby, Holly, because I can’t have children. I don’t know whose baby you’re carrying, my sweet wife, but I know for sure it isn’t mine. I’m infertile.’





CHAPTER SIX


‘NO.’ HOLLY sat down hard on the nearest chair, her heart pounding. ‘That isn’t possible,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I am living proof that it isn’t possible. Why would you even think that?’

‘Eight years ago I had an accident.’

The accident that had killed his brother and Antonia. ‘I know about the accident.’

‘You know only what I chose to reveal.’ He paced across the room and stared out over the ocean. ‘Everyone knew that Santallia lost the heir to the throne. Everyone knew my fiancée died. No one knew that the accident crushed my pelvis so badly that my chances of ever fathering a child were nil.’

Holly’s mind was in turmoil. ‘Casper—’

‘We had a crisis on our hands.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets, the movement emphasising the hard masculine lines of his body. ‘My brother was dead. I was suddenly the ruling prince and I was in intensive care, hitched up to a ventilator. When I recovered, everyone was celebrating. It was the wrong time to break the news to the people that their prince couldn’t give them what they wanted.’