Page 12 of Pregnant With His Majesty's Heir

‘Aurélie!’ The name shot from Lucien like a bullet from a gun. His breath jammed in his lungs while his heart hammered.

The archbishop turned, and Ilsa too. The door swung shut, blocking out the woman who’d stood there. Lucien had only seen her for a second but couldn’t mistake her, even if her hair looked muted in the dark shadows.

His heart pounded and the skin around his nape grew tight. ‘What do you mean, she’s unwell?’

Felix flashed him a warning glance then turned to answer a question from the archbishop.

‘Lucien? What’s wrong?’ Ilsa moved closer, curious.

Lucien forced down his confusion and shock. ‘I’m sorry, Ilsa. I didn’t mean to startle you. Felix has an unexpected visitor he wants me to see. That’s all.’

As he spoke, Lucien felt another frisson of warning. This time it skated the full length of his spine. Aurélie had understood that they’d only ever share a single night. What brought her here?

He put his hand to his fiancée’s elbow, steering her towards the main entrance. ‘What time is your appointment? Your car will be waiting.’

She surveyed him with clear eyes. He saw she was curious but Ilsa was too polite to probe. She glanced at her elegant gold watch. ‘You’re right. It’s time I left.’

Minutes later, with Ilsa on her way to meet friends, and Felix steering the archbishop away with questions about the wedding, Lucien made for the royal antechamber.

Aurélie felt sick.

A different sort of sickness to the nausea she’d felt in the gilded palace. The royal secretary had offered her coffee and her stomach had rebelled at the smell. She’d only just made it to the bathroom in time, chalking up the experience to her first ever bout of morning sickness.

What a time to begin!

The. Worst. Possible. Time.

She’d felt shuddery and weak, and worried that he’d guessed the reason for her illness.

She gnawed her lip and paced the small room.

What she felt now wasn’t morning sickness; this was distress.

Because she’d seen Lucien with his bride-to-be. Rehearsing their wedding.

The first time she’d peeped out of the door she’d seen the pair of them hand in hand before the altar. Lucien handsome in a dark suit and his fiancée stunningly beautiful with her poise, her gold hair and couture clothes.

Aurélie’s palm slipped across her flat abdomen as if in reassurance that everything was okay.

But nothing was okay. Everything was topsy-turvy.

It had taken such courage to come here, seeking out Lucien. She hadn’t expected to barge in on his wedding rehearsal!

Gingerly she sank onto a hard-backed chair as her knees began to wobble.

The last weeks had been one shock after another. She’d told herself everything would be okay. Billions of women faced pregnancy at some point.

But many of those had a supportive partner or family.

Aurélie had neither.

More, she was finally on the verge of achieving her dream of attending university. A goal fostered all those years ago by her mother who’d encouraged her to dream big. Now that looked like being put on hold, again. How could she move to the city, support herself and study full-time? Once the baby arrived...

The door swung open and there he was.

Lucien. Her one-night lover.

He looked different. Had he lost weight? Maybe it was seeing him in the exquisitely tailored suit, complete with mirror gloss shoes and a perfectly knotted crimson tie. His hair, which had been just a little over-long before—tempting her to run her fingers through it—was impeccably styled.

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