Page 52 of Pregnant With His Majesty's Heir

It was no good. They were both too close. He felt Aurélie’s excitement in the tiny rotations of her pelvis as she pressed back against him, heard it in her tantalising moan of pleasure.

He brushed his hand across her peaked nipples, enjoying her jerk of response and capitalising on it with another easy thrust. Then temptation triumphed. Vowing to take it slow next time, he cupped her sex then slid his finger across—

‘Lucien!’

That was all it took.

Hand pressing hard on his, as if afraid he’d stop caressing her, or perhaps needing to cling on, Aurélie shattered. He felt the tremors build in force, her muscles drawing hard, milking him till he exploded in stunning climax.

The waves of ecstasy went on and on.

When Lucien’s brain rejoined his body he realised that, like every time last night and on that night months ago, it felt as if he’d just experienced the most stunning sexual experience of his life. Yet each time it got better. His mind boggled at the possibilities.

As their sated bodies sank together in the remnants of bliss, he congratulated himself. Marriage to Aurélie might provoke gossip and even scandal. But the compensations would be spectacular.

When Aurélie woke the bed was empty. There was a dent in the other pillow and the sheets were rumpled, though the bedcover had been pulled up neatly to her shoulders.

As if Lucien had straightened the bedding so she was warm and cosy. She stretched, her body instantly reminding her that last night had been no ordinary night. She and Lucien had had sex multiple times and each time it had felt as if he’d opened a door to heaven.

She smiled as she shuffled higher in the bed, plumping up the pillows.

A sudden swooping dive in her stomach sliced through her rose-tinted thoughts. Aurélie breathed slowly out through her mouth, trying not to move too much as she reached for the glass of water on her bedside table. Her stomach roiled as she took a small sip. She waited, trying to assess if the morning sickness would increase or lessen. Another cautious sip.

She was congratulating herself that it appeared to be easing when a rolling tide of nausea rose higher. She slammed the glass down and thrust back the covers, hurrying across the carpet to the lavish en suite bathroom.

So much for her post-coital glow. The woman staring at her from the mirror had parchment-pale skin and a bruised look under her eyes. Her hair was wild and so were her eyes as she fought the inevitable.

Fought and lost.

Seconds later she was hunched, retching over the toilet, wishing she hadn’t eaten last night because then she’d have nothing to bring up. Her arms shook and her eyes watered at each violent spasm. Even her skin was taut and clammy. All she could do was hang on and ride the wave of misery.

Then, out of nowhere, warmth encompassed her shivering body. Callused fingers pulled her hair back, anchoring it behind her ears, and she gave an unsteady nod of thanks.

Lucien. The heat of his hard-packed muscles and the tenderness of his skimming touch were so familiar.

She had a moment to wish he hadn’t found her like this.

When they’d been in bed together she’d felt like a sex goddess. Now she had all the charm of a dishrag. Then another bout of sickness hit and pride disappeared. She was simply grateful for his support, one arm carefully bracing her while with the other he blotted her forehead with a damp cloth.

When the wave passed she leant back against him, letting him take her weight. Silently he wiped her face, the dampness reviving her enough to open her eyes.

‘Thank you. I think it’s over now.’

‘You want to get up?’

Aurélie nodded, telling herself that in another second she’d have the energy to rise.

Before she could try, Lucien tossed the washcloth into the basin and scooped her up against him. For a second the world tilted and she gasped, fearing the worst. But, as if he read her thoughts, Lucien stood still, waiting till she nodded before taking her back to the bed.

Installed there, catching the V of concern furrowing his brow, she felt self-conscious.

‘Sorry. That can’t have been nice for you.’

‘You’re apologising for your morning sickness?’ He sat beside her and reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. ‘I’m just glad I could help. It’s rotten that you have to go through this on top of the shock of finding yourself pregnant.’

Aurélie shot him a startled look.

‘What’s wrong?’

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