The Prince's Pregnant Bride(19)

She sat up abruptly when the master of ceremonies called AJ—or rather Arun Jahir—to the floor. She glanced over at him, and watched him rise, face expressionless, and walk out into the center of the room. His crisp black garb emphasized the strength and dignity of his movements. Head held high and back straight, he moved like a monarch, even if he didn’t want to be one.

A little flash of pride surprised Lani. She liked AJ and sympathized with the awkward situation he was in. She still didn’t really understand why he’d kissed her—twice—but under the circumstances it was excusable, even if her initial response wasn’t. He obviously wanted to do the right thing, but like her, he wasn’t sure what that was, and he wisely knew that the wrong choice would have lasting, painful consequences.

Lani shifted in her chair, remembering the tiny consequence she carried inside her. Her fear and anxiety about the situation she found herself in now warred with stray sparks of excitement and eager anticipation of her baby’s arrival. How could she not look forward to holding that tiny, warm body and feeling the grip of a plump hand on her finger?

AJ studied the crowd in silence for a few moments. When he began to speak, his voice was deeper than she remembered. Like the others, he spoke of the long history of the royal line, the legend of how their people had first arrived on long boats from a far-off land, how they’d fought and made peace.

Lani watched, heart pounding. How did AJ manage to sound so perfectly like one of the wise men of the region? You’d never guess he’d been gone for more than a decade. He seemed to carry the cadence and rhythm of the ancient stories in his blood—his royal blood—and why wouldn’t he, descended as he was from a long line of kings?

The fierce nut of pride inside her grew and she found herself pressing hot palms together in her lap. Any woman should be proud to have a man like AJ as her husband, even if he wasn’t royal. She could feel a hum of excitement, almost like a wave of heat, rising in the room. Everyone could feel it. She glanced around and saw eyes glowing, cheeks brightening, as AJ carried them all on a tide of emotion. His words echoed like drumbeats around the room, their meaning less important than the man who spoke them and the spell he wove with his powerful voice.

He paused, looked up at the high-beamed ceiling, then started to walk. At first Lani thought he was simply returning to his seat. Disappointment that his performance was over warred with relief that no permanent commitments had been made or broken.

But then he stopped. He turned to his mother—seated only about two feet from Lani—and bowed deeply. Feeling something about to happen, Lani stiffened.

“I am proud—” AJ’s voice boomed through the packed ballroom “—to take up the staff of tradition, and assume the role of king as my father and brother have done before me.”

Lani gasped. Everything dimmed a bit and she grasped the arm of her chair to keep a grip on reality.

“And I am pleased to take Lani Rahia as my wife, according to royal custom.” His eyes fixed on hers as the last breath fled her lungs. Unable to govern her features into anything but terror-stricken panic, she sat frozen as every eye in the room turned to her.

The faces blurred and she found herself gasping for breath. She felt Priia’s soft hand on her arm. “I’m so happy, my daughter.” Priia’s tear-filled voice penetrated her foggy consciousness. “What a great day this is for Rahiri and for all of us.”

Lani tried to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t move. How could AJ do this without even consulting her?

Because he was the king, and she was no one. A royal widow, rather like a recently vacated crown, free for the taking and passing on.

Anger prickled through her, battling with the fear. The New Jersey upbringing and the freedoms she’d learned to take for granted challenged the quiet acceptance she’d tried so hard to school in herself.

And AJ had no idea she was pregnant. She felt angry that he hadn’t even asked her opinion about the marriage. How would he feel if he knew she carried his brother’s child?

If she went along with Priia’s plan, he’d never find out. He might suspect something, might wonder at the “premature” baby in such perfect health. He might notice features or traits that fitted his brother better than himself—but he’d never know for sure.

This was one small but deadly advantage women had always had over men. They didn’t really know if they were the father of a child. Only the woman held that secret.

“Lani, are you okay?” Priia’s voice penetrated the thick fog of her thoughts. “Have some water.” She felt a glass pressed to her lips, and she struggled to swallow the cool fluid.