Page 14 of Pregnant With His Majesty's Heir

Which meant she probably had her answer already. It had been pointless coming here. But she needed to be certain.

Aurélie drew a deep breath. Telling herself it didn’t matter that this man was royal. That she wasn’t daunted by his fancy clothes or the fact she looked washed out and travel-weary in old jeans.

‘I came all this way because something’s happened.’

She faltered to a stop, horrified at how emotional she felt, sharing her news with an uncaring stranger. She swiped her tongue around her dry lips and forced herself to continue.

‘I’m pregnant, Lucien. You’re going to be a father.’

CHAPTER FOUR

LUCIENHEARDTHEwords but couldn’t process them.

Usually he was a quick thinker. In his architectural practice he coped easily with change, whether the result of difficult clients, challenging sites or his own inspiration. In the last couple of months he’d risen to one challenge after another, shedding his old life and acquiring responsibility for a kingdom.

Today he felt mired, his reactions slow.

Because the last time he’d set foot in here it had been to bury his family? Because he felt trapped in a nightmare?

But this was no dream. Aurélie was real.

Hungrily he ate up the sight of her with her vibrant hair and all that remembered softness beneath the bright red pullover. She was a burst of flame and heat in a world of chill bleakness.

He wanted to reach out and touch her. Haul her to him and keep her close, like a talisman, a reminder that there was light in the world.

‘A father?’ He shook his head.

Lucien understood the words but applying them to himself seemed impossible. It had been just one night.

One memorable night.

Brutally, he cut short the memories. He couldn’t go there. Not when he had a fiancée, a whole nation, depending on him.

‘You’re sure?’

Lucien searched her face, finally noting her tension and her pallor. Initially all he’d registered was her miraculous presence. Then the bright colour she wore and that gorgeous hair.

And a tide of something that felt almost like relief, running hot through his belly.

The mouth he remembered as lush and soft flattened into a crooked line. ‘You think I’d go to the trouble of locating you and come all this way if it wasn’t true?’

‘No.’ It was there in her face. Aurélie wasn’t lying.

An invisible fist punched him in the ribs, winding him.

Now Felix’s words made sense. Beneath that feistiness she looked fragile. That hint of vulnerability scraped at his protective instincts.

‘Sit down, please.’ He gestured to the chair behind her.

‘I thought you were in a rush?’

Lucien hadn’t seen that proud, argumentative angle to her jaw before. Stupid to find it attractive, given the gravity of their situation. Yet he felt a tug of pleasure, deep in his belly, at the sight of her flashing stare and up-tilted chin.

Or maybe it was relief in recognising she wasn’t as weak as he’d feared.

‘You look like a strong breeze would knock you over. Sit, Aurélie. This is no time for pride.’

Lucien took a chair at right angles to hers. He saw pique war with weariness before she subsided onto the seat.

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