The Irresistible Royal Page 18

  ‘Of course. Get going and tell Sabihah we’re thinking of her,’ Gabe said as he gave Khalid a brief hug.

  Marco and Devereaux also embraced Khalid quickly before the Crown Prince of Turastan was on his way, almost sprinting out the door.

  ‘Keep us updated when you can.’ Marco called after him.

  ‘God, but I hope everything goes well for them,’ Gabe said quietly.

  ‘Speaking of pregnant wives, it’s time I got back to Mackenzie before she falls asleep,’ Dev said.

  ‘I hope doing all India’s publicity work hasn’t been too much for her?’ Gabe asked.

  ‘No. She thrives on it, but apparently women get very tired in this first trimester. It’s rather a steep learning curve, as you’ll find out, Marco.’ He smiled, clearly loving the learning. ‘I’ll see you both tomorrow.’

  Marco and Gabriel settled back to their cognac.

  ‘So, here we are,’ Marco said. ‘The night before your official state wedding.’

  ‘Mm.’ Gabriel sat back and put his feet up on the chair Khalid had vacated. ‘Khalid and Sabihah’s second child on the way. If anyone had told me a few years ago that our friend would be happily married and prioritising family life when he’d been known as the polo-playing playboy prince, I would’ve laughed at them.’

  ‘You’ve been a surprise too,’ Marco said with a chuckle. ‘You were always the most serious of the three of us, and while I’ve admired your dedication to your kingdom, Eden and I often discussed our hope for you to find love and stop putting Santaliana ahead of your own personal happiness.’ He let the cognac wash over his tongue and slide down his throat. ‘I was blown away when Devereaux told me you’d been prepared to abdicate if it came to it—that you’d prioritised your love for India over your responsibilities as king and that if your people hadn’t accepted her because of the scandal, you would’ve given up your crown.’

  ‘I still take my duty to Santaliana seriously, but now India comes first in my life. Love’s definitely made me change my priorities.’

  ‘When Eden was murdered, I thought I’d never marry,’ Marco confessed after another sip of cognac.

  ‘I wish you luck with Chloe. I’m certain if you set your mind to it you’ll win her over, but I think you’d probably have more success if you set your heart to it as well.’ Gabe held his glass out, ‘To happy futures for all of us.’

  Marco raised his glass and tapped it against Gabriel’s.

  If Chloe needed old-fashioned courtship, then he’d step up to the mark. She must be going through all sorts of emotional adjustments now. Marco needed to be by her side to help her with those issues—whether she thought she wanted him there or not. If he gave her any more time to think things through alone, he had a feeling it would only cement the distance between them.

  ***

  When India walked up the aisle of the grand cathedral of Santaliana towards Gabriel the following day, Marco pictured Chloe as a bride, walking up the aisle to him. Chloe—not Eden.

  He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, feeling all sorts of bastard because Chloe was taking Eden’s place in his mind. Still, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted Chloe as his bride—and not solely because she was expecting his child.

  His friends’ words from the night before echoed through his heart. Eden wasn’t coming back. While he’d always love her, his friends were right in telling him it was time to move forward. He desired and respected Chloe. With a child to bind them together, there was every reason to believe happiness was within his reach. All he needed to do was reach out and grab it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Chloe, we need to talk,’ Marco told her late the following Tuesday afternoon.

  ‘You’re not kidding.’ she said in despair. ‘I’m at work and I can’t leave. The place is packed with reporters—out front and back. They’re all asking for me and asking everyone who comes in and out of the offices to confirm whether you’re the father of my baby. Dad phoned and there are reporters at the vineyard as well.’

  ‘I’m at the condominium and it’s the same here.’

  ‘How did they find out, Marco?’

  ‘The palace rang to warn me—too late as it turns out—that a guest at your father’s resort recognised me and took a photo of the two of us as I was leaving there last night,’ he explained. ‘It’s all over the media, and an investigative journalist discovered I’ve leased the condominium. Speculation is rife. Thank God I broke the news to my parents before they read about it in the papers.’

  He’d told his family and friends while he’d been in Santaliana on the weekend, and they’d broken it to her father when she’d introduced Marco on Monday night at dinner. Her father, Maria and Pedro had all been struck dumb by the news that the handsome man she’d introduced was the father of her baby and a prince to boot. Her father had grilled him over coffee about his intentions right in front of all of them, and Marco had given his assurances that he wanted to marry Chloe and was convinced they could be happy together.

  Her boss had been equally incredulous when the journalists had appeared at the office and asked their questions. Chloe had admitted the truth to him and it’d been the first time she’d ever seen him at a loss for words. ‘Hell,’ was all he’d muttered as he’d looked out the window at the reporters gathered on the sidewalk. ‘This is a nightmare.’

  It was a nightmare. It was her nightmare.

  ‘I thought the media had been difficult to deal with during the court case, but those who dogged my steps wanting a comment on the trial were far fewer than the number who are assembled outside now,’ she told Marco.

  ‘We have to go into damage control.’ His voice was full of authority, but this was part of his everyday world.

  ‘I’d say the damage is already done.’ Didn’t he have any idea how this breaking story would impact on her life?

  ‘No, there’s no harm done so far,’ he told her firmly. ‘We can control this. We need to manage the story it in a way that’s going to cause least damage to our child. If we maintain silence and let the media run it their way, God knows what will be printed—what articles will be on the internet for our child to read at some point in the future.’

  Chloe rested her elbows on her desk and raised her free hand to her forehead. ‘How do you propose we manage this?’ But even as she asked the question, her chest grew leaden because she had a feeling she knew how he’d respond.

  ‘What do you want our child to believe, Chloe? Wouldn’t it be preferable for our son or daughter to believe that he or she was a product of a loving relationship?’

  It was the solution she’d feared he’d present to her. Feeling cornered, she lashed out at him. ‘You’re acting like Lidia—trying to use emotional blackmail to turn this to your advantage.’

  ‘Don’t ever compare me to that woman.’ The words were a savage denial. ‘I’m thinking of our child, not of myself.’

  ‘Really? You’ve already suggested I marry you. This is playing right into your hands, and if you hadn’t insisted on moving into my territory and turning up on my doorstep, none of this would be happening.’

  ‘Don’t make this about you, Chloe. The easiest option for you at this point would be if I turned my back and walked away on our child so it would spare you the publicity.’

  ‘I...’ Yes. She’d rather be spared the publicity. She’d also rather be spared from being thrown into his company and finding it enjoyable. She could do without having to look at his handsome features across the dinner table while she fantasised about how she’d rather see them against her pillow. How could she help but watch as his lips firmed around his fork or spoon and remember how they’d firmed around her...? Oh damn.

  ‘I’m not ashamed you’re carrying my child,’ he told her.

  ‘You haven’t even received the DNA tests back yet.’

  ‘I told you I don’t need them,’ he said firmly. ‘Listen up, Chloe. I’m not going to slink around as though our baby is some sha
meful secret, and you know damned well I want to marry you.’

  Only because I’m pregnant.

  Bloody hell. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not handling this well.’ Her features crumpled and she had to press her lips together tightly and try to get herself together as tears threatened. ‘I’m not used to all this attention. I hated it during and immediately after the court case and I can’t imagine this is the way my life is going to be from now on.’

  ‘The interest isn’t going to die down unless we make a statement to the press. An announcement of our engagement will cause a huge fuss for a week or two, but if you act as though you’re deliriously in love with me, the interest will die down. Happiness doesn’t sell newspapers. Scandal and controversy is what they’re after. Speculation that you’re carrying my child and that the child will be born illegitimately is what they’re chasing.’

  ‘So I really don’t have a choice. That’s what you’re telling me.’ The room seemed to shrink in on her as though she were a prisoner in her own office. ‘You want to tell them we’re madly in love and planning to marry?’

  ‘I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m presenting both choices to you and asking you to consider the outcomes carefully in the best interests of our child.’

  It was no choice at all and he knew it. ‘I wish to hell you were some ordinary guy.’

  He didn’t reply. It’d been a stupid thing to say because no amount of wishing in the world would change who he was and why the world was so interested in him.

  ‘Okay, Marco. If it’s the only way I’m going to be able to return to my normal existence, we’ll announce our engagement. But that’s all I’m prepared to do. I’m not agreeing to marry you.’ Silence still greeted her. She took the phone away from her ear, frowned at it and gave it a tap. ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘I’ll let the palace know. There are protocols that need to be followed.’

  Shit. It was already starting. Welcome to the royal world, Chloe.

  ‘I’ll pick you up from work and if the media are still there, we’ll face them together. What time will you finish?’

  She looked at the pile of paperwork in front of her and wondered how effectively she’d be able to work through it now. ‘Probably around six-thirty.’

  ‘I have an important teleconference scheduled for six and I’d rather not cancel.’

  ‘That’s fine. Have your teleconference. I’ve got plenty to go on with.’

  ‘It should only take twenty minutes at the most. I’ll be there as close to six-thirty as possible. Don’t try to leave the building until I get there.’

  Raising her hand and separating a couple of slats of the venetian blinds to look through the window, she saw the journalists camped outside. ‘Believe me, I’ll be here.’ Nothing on earth would induce her to face those reporters alone.

  ‘It’ll be okay, Chloe. Trust me.’

  As she hung up, she registered the deep angst in her chest. The problem was that she did trust Marco.

  Hell. Her overprotective father had been won over within an hour of having met Marco. Her dad had said that while Marco’s title and position would make things between them more complicated, she shouldn’t hold those things against him.

  Her own father was singing the same tune as Marco, for heaven’s sake.

  After she’d retired for the night after dinner, Marco had joined her dad and Pedro and spoken until late into the evening about the wine industry and winemaking. The camaraderie between the three men had been obvious over the evening meal. As for Maria, she’d almost swooned when Marco walked into the room, and she’d blushed at least twice when Marco paid her attention.

  Nobody would guess he was a royal prince because he was so informal. He’d laughed easily with Maria while he helped her to set the table. He hadn’t hesitated in helping Maria and Chloe clear up the dinner plates afterwards. He slotted right in to the domestic routine as though he’d been doing it every day of his life.

  ‘Have you ever set a table before tonight?’ Chloe had asked.

  ‘No.’ The broad, devilishly handsome smile he’d sent her way had made her skin prickle with awareness.

  ‘Then why do it tonight? Are you out to impress me?’

  ‘Of course,’ he’d admitted. ‘I’m in your world now, Chloe, and I want to prove I can be as easily a part of it as you can be a part of mine.’

  When she’d made a scoffing sound of disbelief, he’d captured her to him so quickly she didn’t have time to protest.

  ‘You have to stop thinking of me as a prince, Chloe, and simply think of me as a man. A man who desires you very much.’

  His kiss was so masterfully passionate, she’d had to anchor her arms around his neck to stop herself from slinking to the floor as her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. When he’d drawn away from her, she hadn’t wanted to end the embrace.

  It was impossible not to think of him as a man. The air between them almost crackled with sexual awareness. When he walked into a room, his sheer presence commanded her attention. She couldn’t look at him—even when she was feeling crowded by him—and not admire the masculinity of his broad shoulders, and the width and strength of his chest. She couldn’t stop wanting to walk right up to him and be held secure against his male protectiveness.

  There’d been moments during dinner where she’d lost all track of the conversation and simply watched his beautifully sculpted lips moving as he spoke—times when she’d felt her breath catch as she watched the deeply tanned skin of his throat move up and down as he swallowed.

  Every moment she spent with him, her physical attraction grew stronger.

  As she’d said goodnight last night, he’d kissed her passionately. Every kiss was dangerous because it pulled her ever deeper into his thrall, and left her tossing and turning through the night, replaying the lovemaking they’d shared in England. She wanted more of the same, with a desperation unlike any other she’d known.

  Last night he’d whispered against her ear, ‘I want to make love to you, Chloe. But more than I want to make love to you, I want to prove that we can build our marriage on more than our sexual desire. I want you to know we can be friends as well as lovers and that we have much more in common than lust and this little life we’ve created together.’

  When she’d thought about those words, she’d cherished them.

  He’d wanted to marry Princess Eden more than he wanted to be a father.

  He wanted to build a solid relationship with Chloe based on more than sex and their baby.

  Marco was the most intense man she’d ever met—possibly the most intense person she’d ever met. Given the meteoric rise in his professional life, everything she believed about his focus made sense—once he dedicated himself to accomplishing a goal, he stopped at nothing until he’d succeeded.

  Marriage to her was his current goal.

  Despite reminding herself at every opportunity that he didn’t love her, was nothing like the man she’d always dreamed she’d marry, and why marrying Marco would be a logistical nightmare, she found herself looking forward to seeing him again.

  Inch by inch he was invading her heart, and he was doing it so cleverly. Instead of laying it on thick last night, bringing her flowers, he brought Maria the flowers. Chloe’s gift had been far more practical and one she’d appreciated—a couple of books on pregnancy which he told her he’d read from cover to cover on the flight from Santaliana to Napa. She’d had precious little time to read anything about pregnancy because she’d been neck-deep in the court case when she’d had it confirmed. Instead of feeling uncomfortable about his gift, there’d been a sense of rightness for him to share this interest with her.

  God help her if Maria played matchmaker tonight. Last night the adorable maternal figure in her life had produced a bottle of lavender oil and told Marco he should massage Chloe’s feet and calves because she’d mentioned her legs were tired.

  His Royal Highness hadn’t objected one iota. He’d relished the task, overcomi
ng every objection and as a result, she’d been subjected to the most sensuous massage experience she’d ever known.

  The whole scene of Marco seated on a low footstool in front of her, one foot at a time resting on the muscles of his thigh as his strong, capable fingers kneaded the balls of her feet had turned her to mush. When he’d tugged at each toe, stroked firmly along the high arch and pressed soothingly against her heels, she’d squirmed in her seat. Far from being relaxing, it’d been highly arousing. His touch made her catch on fire and she’d wanted his hands to continue stroking well past her calves, up her inner thighs and right to the pulse between them.

  ‘Relax,’ he’d told her as she’d tensed to hold her thighs together, afraid her knees would simply fall sideways in an open invitation for him.

  This morning she’d awakened tired and grumpy after a restless night where her bed had been achingly empty and all she’d wanted to do was have Marco with her, making love to him and being held close to him all through the night.

  She hoped he was feeling equally as sexually frustrated.

  Her thoughts went round and round on the subject for the remaining few hours and she achieved very little before the commotion from outside the building alerted her to Marco’s arrival.

  Even as she told herself she should remain at her desk and wait until he walked into her office, she was up out of her chair, reaching for her handbag, reapplying her lipstick and running a brush through her hair. She was only just sitting back down, trying to look as though she was the picture of industry, when he arrived.

  ‘Chloe.’ The way he said her name, with the deep pitch of his voice and sexy accent, never failed to make her pulse trip.

  Oh dear Lord. He looked even more devastatingly handsome tonight, with the five o’clock shadow on his jawline and the dark stubble on his upper lip. She imagined the roughness against the softness of her own skin and heat flared along the skin of her chest.

  ‘Hi.’ Her voice was hoarse with longing.

  ‘Nearly finished?’

  She nodded. ‘I can leave this until tomorrow.’