Page 13 of Pregnant With His Majesty's Heir

He looked like what he was. No longer her sexy stranger but the King of Vallort.

That had been another shock. She’d set about searching online for him, expecting it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Instead she’d had immediate success.

If you called it a success to discover the man you’d slept with was a king. And that he was about to marry another woman.

Aurélie got to her feet. ‘Your Majesty.’

Something passed across his face. A ripple of emotion gone so quickly she couldn’t identify it.

‘Itisyou.’ He didn’t approach, but stood inside the door.

That was the instant Aurélie realised part of her, the part that had listened to fairy tales at her mother’s knee, had imagined him striding across the small room and sweeping her into his arms.

Not that she expected a happy ever after. She was no Cinderella.

But they’d shared so much that night. The experience had been a shining beacon in a drab world of disappointment and dull, grey mundanity.

Now she realised the glow she felt whenever she recalled that night was one-sided. Judging by his grim mouth and furrowed brow, Lucien didn’t share her fond memories. His jawline was sharply defined and his eyes...she couldn’t remember his eyes looking so cold. Even when she’d found him half-frozen on the street. Then he’d looked blank and bewildered. Now he simply looked hard.

‘Why are you here, Aurélie? What do you want?’

And hello to you too!

Okay, so a warm welcome wasn’t on the cards. But did he need to sound so brusque?

Disappointment merged with outrage. Clearly her memories of their night together were rose-tinted. This was the real Lucien. The one she remembered was a mirage.

‘I came to see you.’ She found her hands twisting together in front of her and put them behind her back so he couldn’t see them. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Are you all right? Felix thought you weren’t well.’

Did that mean Lucien cared after all? Yet she didn’t feel that warmth of connection that had made that night so amazing.

Her breath eased out in a disappointed sigh.

‘I’m fine.’ Except that her life wasn’t her own any more. Nor was her body. As for her long-delayed plans, they were dying before her eyes.

I’m scared. I’m totally out of my depth.

But looking up into that stern face, Aurélie would never admit that. Not to this man who was more a stranger than the Lucien she’d known in Annecy.

‘Then why are you here? And now of all times?’ That was when she heard it, a trace of anger.

She lifted her chin, refusing to let his temper daunt her. Her father and stepmother had treated her like a slave, hurling abuse if she didn’t anticipate their needs. She wouldnotbe bullied by this man too.

‘I didn’t plan to arrive when you were...’ Her throat constricted and she waved a hand in the direction of the aisle where he’d walked with his oh-so-suitable fiancée. ‘Rehearsing for your wedding.’

One dark eyebrow arched and she was treated to a stare as supercilious as any she’d ever seen.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she wasn’t awed by royalty. France was a staunch republic and had guillotined one king.

‘No?’ The single syllable carried a weight of distrust.

‘No!’ She took a slow breath and sought calm. ‘Can we sit?’ She looked around at the couple of hard wooden chairs.

‘I prefer to stand. I don’t have much time. I’m needed elsewhere.’

It was probably true. Yet it sounded like a personal insult. As if she were some footnote in his personal history that he’d rather forget.

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